We Are Broken (the rewrite)
by thewritershavetheTARDIS
Summary: A rewrite of my fic also called "We Are Broken". Hope this version doesn't suck as much. :)
1. Lindsey

It was late afternoon in Storybrooke, Maine, and I walked down Main Street with my eyes trained intently on the pages of my notebook, which I clutched tightly in front of me.

My gaze traced my flourished handwriting across the page, studying every letter, committing every word to memory. I had spent the entirety of last period scribbling in my book; I had much more pressing issues to deal with than the Pacific ocean's foodwebs. I had dreams to write down.

I'd been having the dreams for months, all of them terrifying me: I would wake up in the pressing shadows of my bedroom, tangled in my blankets with an awful headache pounding against my skull. The dreams always felt like memories - or rather, glimpses of them. There was never anything substantial: a pair of gleaming blue eyes, a young girl's laugh, a blazing bonfire, a blood-chilling scream. The shattered moments would play through my mind, tossing me through a whirlwind of images and feelings that left me dizzy and shaking.

After the first month, I had decided to write some of the dreams down, and soon my notebook was filled with them: feverish handwriting describing a texture or a scent, a quick sketch of a boy's eyes or the fletching of an arrow. It was during my fourth period science class that I had inscribed my latest vision: the short paragraph describing a man's laugh, and the roar of a bonfire. My eyes went to the drawings, which depicted a fluttering emerald skirt and the lower half of a girl's face, her lips quirked up in a smirk.

Turning onto my own street, I walked up the steps to the small brownstone building I called home. It wasn't anything special - yellowing crabgrass out front, timeworn steps up the porch, the number 2 in 23 knocked slightly askew - but I didn't mind the shabbiness. I tended to avoid any kind of grandeur, successfully melting into the backdrop as I scribbled in my notebook. I walked in the front door, which Caroline always left unlocked for me, and trudged up the stairs to my bedroom. Firmly shutting the door, I kicked off my shoes and pulled off the school uniform, dropping it unceremoniously onto the unmade bed and walking over to my dresser, where I rifled through a drawer in search of clothes. Pulling on a sweater and leggings, I curled up on my bed, back against the headboard and a blanket draped over my lap. My notebook sat on top of the blanket, and I examined my sketch of the skirt. It was swirling around someone's knees, as if the wearer were dancing. A sudden wave of vertigo washed over me, and I leaned my head back against the wall, closing my eyes to stem the dizziness.

A shout sounded from below the floorboards, someone yelling "Lindsey!" I sighed and rolled off of my bed, stretching and padding across the room to the door. I paused at the mirror on top of the dresser: glancing back at my sketch, I gently touched my fingertips to my lips, which I quirked up into a smirk nearly identical to my drawing.

"Lindsey!" I heard from downstairs again, and the shout snapped me out of my trance. Walking out of my bedroom, I shoved all thoughts of the dreams from my mind.


	2. Emma Swan

"This may just be the absolute worst idea you've ever had."

I was sitting on a barstool at Granny's diner, my elbows planted firmly on the counter and my chin resting in my palms. I was glaring at one of my best - well, only -  
friends, Ruby Lucas, who was making a pot of coffee.

"Why won't you just have a bit of fun?" Ruby asked, and I rolled my eyes.

"It's not fun, Ruby - it's a double date with some guy I don't even know. Sorry, but I'm not going."

"God, you're stubborn - by the way, why aren't you at school? It's a Tuesday."

"Free period," I said, to which Ruby raised a skeptical eyebrow. I relented. "It's government, Ruby. Who cares if I miss one class?" I paused. "Or several."

Sliding a cup of coffee across the counter to Leroy, who looked about as cheerful as always, Ruby turned back to look me dead in the eye and said, "Back on topic: if you don't go, Lindsey Welles, I will never forgive you or set you up with anyone ever again. Then you'll be alone forever, and die an old spinster." She paused thoughtfully, then added, "Or a crazy cat lady. I don't think spinsters exist anymore."

I sighed through my nose, trying to ignore my friend's spinster ramblings. "You can't make me go, alright?"

"What if you just meet him -" Ruby began, but I shook my head firmly before she even finished the sentence.

"Ruby, I am not going and that is final."

"Fine," the older girl said, turning back to her work and walking expertly in her heels back to the kitchen. I sighed, not wanting to upset Ruby, but also wanting desperately not to go on another blind date with one of her friends. I was beginning to feel like Elizabeth Bennet, having a dozen 'eligible bachelors' shoved my way every week or so. I was also starting to feel bad for the dates: they were nice guys (usually), and I hated to put them through the awkward, vaguely unpleasant two hours that most of my dates consisted of.

A chime from my pocket brought my attention to my phone, and I glanced down at the screen to see a quick text from Graham: 'need help with some booking paperwork. come asap.' Chewing on my lip, I weighed my current options for the afternoon: listen to Ruby gripe about my inability to date properly, or do the Sheriff's paperwork for a few hours?

I slid off my seat, slinging my bag over my shoulder and pocketing my phone. The choice wasn't a difficult one.

Walking into the police station, I took my usual seat in front of the holding cells, flipping through my aunt's text messages: it was mostly about not staying at the station too late, Graham had let her know about the booking, I shouldn't get too caught up in police affairs, et cetera, et cetera.. I suppressed a snort. For ages, I had been Storybrooke's resident mystery-solver and irritating, interfering, general pain in the ass. Nancy Drew had been my first childhood hero, which led to my slight obsession with mystery investigations and catching bad guys. I had bothered Graham about helping him with the town's little crime for so long that,  
once I had reached the legal age, the Sheriff had taken me on as an intern for the station. I wasn't technically supposed to be involved in any actual crime-solving,  
but I also wasn't technically supposed to do a lot of things (re: breaking and entering, accidental arson, skipping class every other day).

I was waiting only a minute before Graham made an appearance, walking inside with a thin blonde in tow. The Sheriff looked a bit exasperated as he led the woman over to the wall, where he proceeded to set up the camera. I quickly closed the game on my phone and walked over to stand behind Graham, curious.

"How'd you know I wasn't in class?" I asked quietly as he readied the camera. Graham gave me his mandatory I'm-an-officer-of-the-law-and-can't-condone-your-miscreant-behaviour look before replying with a curt, "It's a Friday, and you have government and physics in the afternoon. I knew you wouldn't be in class."

"Ye of little faith," I shot back with a small smile before turning my attention back towards the blonde. "I'll need her information for booking."

"Right," Graham said, sounding a bit distracted, as he took the first shot of the woman. "Miss Swan, where's your identification?"

"My car," she replied, sounding oddly calm for someone who was being processed in a police station. "My driver's license is in the glove compartment. If you could let me out of these-" she shook the handcuffs around her wrists for a moment "-I could go get it for you."

"That's fine, Lindsey will manage." Graham waved me off, a signal to, as he so eloquently phrased it, 'do my evil Nancy Drew thing'. I glanced back at Miss Swan. "Which car?"

"You won't be able to get in," she said.

"Which car?" I repeated.

"Yellow Bug."

"Got it."

"But how are you -"

"I've got it."

I returned a full five minutes later, bearing an envelope of identification, and strode right over to Graham's desk, digging around in a drawer for the first of the paperwork.

"I'd be impressed if that didn't mean you broke into my car," Miss Swan - who was apparently named Emma - said from her position by the wall. They were still taking her mugshots, which either meant Graham was more tired than his dark circles said or I had missed some interesting sexual tension. I wasn't sure which one was preferable.

"Kinda what I do, Miss Swan," I said, tossing her a messy salute. "Just a humble troublemaker-turned-detective." I paused, thinking for a moment. "I still need a tragic backstory. Graham, help me come up with something later."

"Sure thing," he said, although his tone betrayed that all he'd probably heard was his name.

"You know the shrink's lying, right?" Emma Swan said, looking directly at Graham. My eyebrows lifted to my hairline: the shrink . . . Archie? Archie Hopper, lying? I nearly laughed at the accusation.

"Turn to the right," Graham said, and the woman complied. He added, "Why would he lie?"

"The mayor put him up to it," Miss Swan explained. "He's terrified of her, just like everyone in this town."

"Not me," I said, looking up from the second sheet of paperwork. Miss Swan raised an eyebrow at me, and I shrugged. "Usually, anyway. It's not her that scares people, but the dirt she has on everyone."

"And the dirt she has on you . . . it doesn't scare you?" Miss Swan asked dubiously.

I shook my head, pen dancing across the page as I spoke. "She doesn't have any dirt on me. As a former notable public menace -" at this I tossed Graham a small grin, which he returned grudgingly as he printed the last photo "-I may have skeletons, but they left the closet a while ago."

"Regardless," Graham said. "Regina may come off as intimidating, but she wouldn't go as far as a framejob."

I shot him an incredulous glance, not sure about that myself. A frame job didn't really seem past someone like Regina Mills - ticking her off was like poking a grizzly bear when it was sleeping. An overprotective mommy grizzly bear in power suits.

"How far would she go?" Miss Swan asked. "What does she have her hands in?"

"Well, she is the mayor," Graham said, shrugging.

"Everything," I mock-whispered from his desk, giving Emma a quick wink. Graham gave me a look, and I returned it: was he seriously going to deny how powerful Regina Mills was?

"Everything?" Miss Swan repeated suspiciously. "Including the police force?" At this Graham tossed her the same look he'd given me.

The door to the station swung open and Mary Margaret Blanchard and Henry Mills hurried in. I looked from them to Miss Swan to Graham and back again curiously.

"Henry, what are you doing here?"

"His mother told him what happened," Mary Margaret explained to the Sheriff.

"Of course she did," Miss Swan said in annoyance, looking pointedly at Graham. I glanced back down at the package before me: almost a quarter of the way done.

"Hey, Lindsey," Mary Margaret said quietly, and I smiled back and whispered, "How exactly does Henry know the nearly-processed prisoner?" Henry was going on about Operation Cobra again - everyone had heard it at one point or another.

"Henry's birth mother," the woman whispered back, and I watched the pair for a long moment before nodding in understanding: he did sort of have her eyes.

"He found her, then?" The teacher nodded. "And let me guess: Regina isn't happy?" Mary Margaret nodded again, looking a bit disappointed. I was still amazed at the woman's ability to sympathise with people.

"So she did frame her, didn't she?" But before any answer could be spoken, Henry piped up and said to Graham: "Miss Blanchard's going to bail her out."

Instantly, the blonde looked at Mary Margaret. "You are? Why?"

The teacher seemed a bit shocked herself as she said, "I, uh, trust you."

Before I had even realised what was happening, Graham had unlocked Emma Swan's handcuffs, and she walked out of the station with a determined glint in her eyes that I couldn't help but respect. Mary Margaret and Henry quickly left, and Graham looked over at me.

"I already started," I said, frustrated, before chucking the used sheets into the recycling.

"As the Sheriff, I have to ask: are you going to go back to school?" he asked me wearily, and I raised an eyebrow.

"It's government, Graham. Government."

"What does that mean?"

I sighed, then held out my hands. "If you could arrest me instead, I'd be grateful."


	3. Average Storybrooke Tuesday

I downed the rest of my tea, only half paying attention to Ruby's words as I sketched in my notebook.

" . . . and that is exactly why you should come on the double date," the older girl concluded with a triumphant grin, placing a stack of plates on the counter.

"Right," I said quietly, focused on the pair of eyes I'd just drawn. I hated how familiar yet alien they seemed: a memory dancing across the back of my mind, just out of reach.

"Are you even listening?" Ruby demanded. When there was no response, she snapped her fingers under my nose. "Hello? Earth to Lindsey?"

I started, glancing up at my friend in confusion. "What did you say?"

Ruby sighed dramatically and leaned her elbows on the table. "Never mind - I'll bring out the list again later." I rolled my eyes and turned a page in my notebook.

"Can you believe that?" Ruby asked quietly, nodding over to a table right behind my barstool.

I turned my head to see Mary Margaret and Dr. Whale sitting at a table together, the teacher doing all the talking. She seemed a bit nervous, despite how calm the doctor appeared.

"Honestly, it's ridiculous," Ruby said, watching Whale irritably. "Someone like Mary Margaret and someone like _Whale_ . . . as if he stands a chance."

I nodded silently, pressing my lips together. I knew about the doctor's thing for my friend - good Lord, anyone with eyes knew about it - but I was also aware that Ruby would never do anything to hurt Mary Margaret. "I'm a little more worried about Mary Maragret, honestly. You know what he can be like, especially on a date." Ruby nodded, crinkling her nose in disgust; we had witnessed quite the number of the doctor's dates from this position in the past, and I couldn't seem to recall one that had ended well.

"Ruby, clear up that table over there, would you?" Granny asked from the kitchen. The older girl sighed and walked off. I twirled my empty teacup in my hands as Whale's eyes followed Ruby to the other table. I felt the familiar pang of revulsion as I noticed the way he stared at my friend, and while on a date with Mary Margaret. It took nearly all of my self-control to keep from saying something. Mary Margaret soon noticed the direction of Whale's gaze as well, and quickly called on Ruby for the check. The girl nodded, and sighed at me as she passed me.

I bid Ruby goodnight, dropped some coins on the counter, and walked out of the diner. It was nearly ten, and Caroline would murder me if I stayed out any later - it was, quite unfortunately, a school night.

* * *

 _I stand over the man, who is all grime and tattered rags. He kneels at my feet, his chest heaving as he sucks in panicked breaths. He is staring up at me, his eyes wide with fear. I reach down and twist my fingers in the fabric of his shirt, dragging him to his feet._

 _"Please, don't," he sobs as I throw him against a wall. "Please."_

 _He screams, and suddenly I'm in a vast hall, a man a foot taller than me spinning me around, his hands clasping mine tightly. I smile up at him, but it feels incredibly false, a swell of sadness heavy in my chest. He spins me again, and then the images start: a young girl laughs next to me, the tall man shoves me to a cold stone floor, fire burns around me and the floorboards beneath me give way, and I fall through them into a room full of grandly-dressed people dancing, and the visions come faster and faster until I feel breathless and terrified._

 _My eyes snapped open to Caroline hanging over my bed, her hand on my shoulder, shaking me. My throat felt raw, and I knew I'd been screaming; her warm brown eyes were brimming with worry as she helped me sit up._

 _"Are you alright?" Caroline whispered, her fingers still digging into my shoulder. I knew she was just trying to be reassuring, but the dream was already fading away, and I wanted to remember it. For some reason, I felt as if I needed to write down those dreams: as if they were a part of me I might've forgotten._

 _"Yeah, I just - I just need a minute, okay?" I looked up at my aunt pleadingly, and she nodded, walking out of the bedroom._

 _I listened to her walk down the stairs, and the moment she was gone, leapt over to my dresser and flipped my notebook open to a fresh page, uncapping a pen and hastily scribbling everything I could remember - but the details were growing fuzzy. In the end, the one thing that stuck out clear as day was the man in the ragged clothes: the panic in his eyes as my dream-self threw him against the wall, as if looking into the face of death. His expression sent a stab of inexplicable remorse through me; no one had ever looked at me like that before._

 _So why did I feel so guilty?_

* * *

I was reading Caroline's battered paperback copy of The Magician's Nephew when Graham strode quickly out of the police station, towards the sheriff's car. I quickly closed my book and stuffed it in my bag as I walked up to his side. "I got your text. Where're we going?" I asked. I was always excited when Graham looked this hassled: it meant something interesting was happening.

He quickly slid into the driver's side of the police car without so much as a word to me; I quickly opened the passenger side door and hopped inside.

"Hospital, there's been a -" Graham hesitated, as if reluctant to tell me what was going on. "There's been a potential kidnapping."

My eyes widened and a small smile of excitement inched its way onto my face. "Kidnapping? You should've mentioned, I would have gotten here way faster."

" _Potential_ kidnapping," Graham repeated, looking a bit regretful of his life choices. He seemed to get that look a lot around me. "Just stay calm, Lindsey. Don't make me regret bringing you on this one."

"No problem, captain," I said with a quick salute. Graham sighed, turning the key in the ignition.

"And don't do anything stupid. Or dangerous. Or both."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I replied, grinning.

* * *

Graham and I were standing outside of John Doe's room when Henry, Mary Margaret and Miss Swan - who I had learned was named Emma - came rushing inside. As Henry neared the room, Graham shook his head, saying, "Henry, you should stay back."

"What's going on?" Mary Margaret asked worriedly. "Is it John Doe - is he okay?"

I nodded. "He's fine - he's just disappeared into thin air, is all." Graham gave me a look, and I sobered up immediately, avoiding eye contact with the Sheriff.

"He's missing," Graham explained, and the trio looked horrified as they stared past Graham and I, into the hospital room where John Doe's bed lay empty.

There was the click of heels as Regina Mills approached the group, looking agitated. "What the hell are you doing here?" she said coldly, and I inched back from her a bit; I'd learned that it was best to steer clear of her when she got into one of her rages. "And you," she said, grabbing Henry's arm. "I thought you were at the arcade. Now you're lying to me?" She looked a bit hurt, actually - which was surprising - and I felt a small twinge of sympathy for her as I tossed Graham a baffled glance. Henry had stolen his teacher's credit card, taken a bus to Boston, and brought back his birth mother in a matter of days. Lying to Regina about his daily activities seemed pretty tame compared to the trouble the kid usually got up to.

"What happened to John Doe?" Mary Margaret asked, and I noticed Regina's eyes harden as she glared at the teacher. "Did someone take him?"

"Yes," I said sarcastically. "Someone walked right out the hospital door, carrying a thirty-year-old man in a coma, and the only thing the night security did was hold the door open for him."

"We don't know yet," Graham said to the teacher, glaring at me. I shrugged in response as the sheriff continued to explain the situation to Mary Margaret.

"What did you do?" Henry asked Regina.

She frowned. "You think I had something to do with this?"

"It is curious that the mayor is here," Emma Swan said, her eyes narrowed at the other woman. I bit my lip, trying not to grin; not many people would challenge Regina Mills like that. I was beginning to like Emma Swan.

"I'm here because I'm his emergency contact," the mayor explained, and the half-smile vanished from my face.

"Why the hell -" I began in confusion, before Graham stepped on my foot, silencing me.

"I found him," Regina continued. "On the side of the road, years ago, with no ID. I brought him here." I raised my eyebrows at this explanation.

"Mayor Mills saved his life," Dr. Whale said, coming to stand with our group.

I laughed softly. "Saint Regina Mills, rescuer of coma patients." The mayor shot me an icy glare, which shut me up but did not erase my disbelief.

"Will he be okay?" Mary Margaret asked, and I couldn't help but notice the worry etched in her face. She seemed to care a lot about this John Doe. I was still studying Mary Margaret's worried expression when I heard Whale say, "He needs to get back here soon, or 'okay' might be a pipe dream."

"Then let's stop yapping and get looking," Emma said.

"I'm with Emma," I said, nodding. "Let's go."

"That's what we're doing," Regina said, ignoring me and glaring haughtily at Emma. "Just stay out of this, dear. And since I can't seem to keep you away from my son," she added, pulling Henry closer to her side. "I'll just have to keep my son away from you."

"Enjoy my shirt," she said menacingly as she passed by Emma. "Because that's all you're getting." And with that, Mayor Mills strode out of the hospital, Henry in tow.

"Damn," I said, watching her go. "And I thought Coronation Street had family drama." Emma raised an eyebrow at me, and I grinned.

"Doctor, how long since you last saw him?"

"Twelve hours," Whale said to Graham, who nodded, turning to the rest of us.

"Let's get started, then," I said impatiently, clapping. "C'mon, people, we have a missing coma patient to find."

Five minutes later, we stood in the hospital's security room, questioning the night watchman and the janitor.

"You were the only two employees on the floor last night," Graham said. "And you saw nothing?" Both men shook their heads.

"Mary Margaret, did you see anything unusual on the trip with your class?"

"No, I don't think so," the teacher said, but before anyone could say anything else, Emma crossed the room to the computer screens.

"This is the wrong tape," she said, pointing to the monitor.

Leroy, the janitor, snorted. "You fell asleep again."

The night watchman glared at him. "You selling me out?"

"I ain't getting fired for this!"

"At least I don't drink on the job!"

"For God's sake, would you two stop that!" I snapped, studying the tape with Emma. Everyone turned surprised stares onto me, and I shrugged a bit self-consciously. "Well, it would be helpful."

"Just - roll the tape, please," Graham said in exasperation, and the watchman complied. We all watched the computer screen as John Doe stumbled out of the ward, clutching his wrist as he pushed open the door. Mary Margaret sighed in clear relief. "He walked out alone," she murmured. "He's okay."

"This was four hours ago," Emma said, gesturing to the tape. "Where does this door lead?" She looked at Graham, who looked solemn.

"It goes to the woods," Leroy said.

"Lindsey," Graham said, before I could so much as take a step towards the door. "I need you to get the paperwork and crime scene kits ready, just in case. If we find anything, I'll let you know first. Just head back to the station for now."

"Why? I can handle the woods, Graham, I'm not a child -"

"Just, head back. Please."

* * *

That is how, a half hour later, I wound up walking into the forest with none other than Henry Mills by my side. The kid had found me on the edge of the woods, about to follow the group in when he appeared, carrying a backpack and industrial flashlight. I'll say one thing for sure: the kid was prepared.

"I think they went this way," Henry said, racing to the right. I followed him, waving the faint beam of my penlight along the surrounding trees. I wasn't certain what I was looking out for - bears, serial killers, murderous squirrels - but I knew from every horror movie I'd ever seen that I didn't want to find out what was lurking in the dark, ominous forest.

"I hope you're right, kid," I replied, just as we passed a thick copse of evergreens and saw Emma and Mary Margaret standing together, talking, as Graham moved deeper into the trees.

"Did you find him yet?" Henry asked, scurrying over to the pair.

"Henry - what are you doing here?!" Emma demanded, and the other woman spotted me as I hurried to walk behind him. "And Lindsey - why are you with him?"

"Someone had to watch the kid," I shot back defensively. "And since Madam Mayor appears incapable, I stepped in for the night."

"I know where he's going!" Henry exclaimed.

"What?" I said, taken aback. "Why didn't you tell me? Henry, I thought we were partners in crime?"

"Where's he going?" Emma asked, after giving me an annoyed glance.

"He's going to find you," Henry said to Mary Margaret. "You have to stop looking for him, and let him find you!"

"Henry, it's not about me," she said. "He's lost and confused, he's been in a coma a long time."

"But he loves you!" Henry argued, and I sighed; he'd been talking about this for the whole time.

"Kid, you need to go home," Emma replied. "Where's your mom? She's going to kill me. Then you, and then me again."

"Probably me, too," I added, and Emma nodded in agreement.

While Henry and Emma continued to talk, I wandered after Graham, who had plowed further into the woods than the rest of us. I could hear the incessant rush of water, and figured we were somewhere near the river. Sidling up to walk next to him, I let out a low sigh that I knew he would hear. "I don't need you to protect me," I said quietly. "I can take care of myself. I know it doesn't seem like it sometimes, but I'm not fragile. You should know that by now."

Without missing a beat or glancing down at me, he replied shortly, "I know you can take care of yourself. But I don't care."

I would have argued this response if he hadn't continued, much louder than before. "Guys!" Graham yelled, and I heard footsteps behind me as we all sprinted down after the sheriff.

"Is that -?"

"Blood," I heard Emma say.

* * *

"His name is David Nolan," Regina announced to the room nearly an hour later. "And that's his wife, Kathryn."

"Crap," I muttered, watching Mary Margaret's face fall.

"And that look of joy on her face has put me in quite the forgiving mood," she added, and she and Emma shared a cold look.

"That would be a first, wouldn't it?" I muttered, and Regina shot me a glare.

"We'll talk about your insubordination later," the mayor said to Henry. "Do you know what insubordination means?" The kid sitting next to me shook his head, and Regina matched his stare with her disappointed one. "It means your grounded."

"No it doesn't," I whispered to Henry. "She's definitely lying."

Kathryn Nolan stepped out of her 'husband's' room, smiling and saying, "Thank you."

"This would be a good time for me to leave," I said quietly, earning a hard glare from Regina on my way out. I smiled sweetly up at her, and tossed Henry a wink from behind her. "Keep up the good work, kid," I said, walking out of the hospital - only to find Caroline standing there, waiting for me with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I can completely explain," I said, my smile wavering. "I, um - well, John Doe -"

"I know what happened," Caroline said shortly. "But wandering through the woods? Alone? At night?"

I shrugged, feeling a twinge of guilt. "Sorry. I didn't - I mean, it was kind of short notice, really. And I wasn't really alone."

"Graham told you to go home, did he?" My aunt's anger was quickly turning into exasperation as she spoke.

I shook my head. "Paperwork preparation." Walking to stand next to Caroline's ancient blue car, I couldn't really meet her disappointed gaze. She opened the door, and we both climbed inside.

"You're okay?" she asked after a long moment of silence.

"Completely fine."

Then my aunt wrapped her arms around me, and I leaned my head on her shoulder, whispered that statement over again. She started the car and we drove home, Caroline humming along to the radio, with my hand reassuringly across her shoulders.

 **AN: I'm uploading the edits as I finish them, so it might get a bit sporadic. But I'm hoping that revamping the story might increase my attachment to finishing it. Lots of love sunshines xx**


	4. Deals Made and Deals Broken

_Standing outside of a darkened manor house, I leaned against a stone wall and heaved a sigh as impatience swelled in me._

 _"Hello, dearie," a raspy voice whispered next to me. I turned my head, completely unfazed, and gave Rumplestiltskin my most bored look before replying._

 _"Rumple. Is it just me, or have you gotten greener?" The man - monster - before me sneered._

 _"I hear tell that you have information for me," he said, walking around to stand on my other side. He leaned in close, until I could feel his hot breath on my cheek, and whispered in my ear, "About a . . . potential client." He laughed maniacally at this statement, and I rolled my eyes._

 _"First off: if you don't mind, I'd prefer you not breathe on me. One more whiff of that, and I'll be dead before I can tell you anything." Rumple's grin vanished, and was replaced with a leer._

 _"Do you have the information, or not, dearie?" he asked angrily. Sometimes it was too easy to wind him up._

 _"Well, that depends," I said, an edge creeping into my voice. "Do you have what I want?"_

 _"Which would be . . . ?" Rumple let the question hang in the air around us, and it felt heavy on my ears. The answer, I knew, would feel even heavier, so I opted not to voice it._

 _"You know exactly what I want, Rumple." I gently slid a silver dagger from its sheath on my hip, twirling it in my hands and watching it catch beams of moonlight. I carefully arced the blade around so fast it was a metallic blur in the night air; suddenly, it was pressed against the glistening skin of Rumplestiltskin's throat. "Now the question is," I continued, tracing the dagger's tip across his neck as I slowly enunciated every syllable. "Do - you - have it?"_

 _Rumple didn't seem at all fazed by the knife at his throat; in fact, he appeared delighted by my actions. Considering the number of times I'd pulled a blade on him, though, his lack of surprise wasn't very shocking. "Yes," he said, smiling wickedly down at me. "Of course I have it, dearie. I am me, after all." He breathed a manic laugh, and the corner of my mouth curled up in a smirk._

 _"Naturally," he continued. "I'll want payment immediately."_

 _I nodded, watching cautiously as Rumple pulled a small crystal phial from an inner pocket of his jacket: it contained a shimmering concoction, that glowed an iridescent blue. He held it out in front of me, and I quickly snatched it from his grasp, staring down at the phial. "And this will work?"_

 _"Absolutely, dearie," Rumple said, looking amused. Carefully, I pocketed the phial, and caught Rumple's expectant expression._

 _"Information - right. There's a damsel in distress - young girl, blonde, blue eyes, beautiful." I suppressed a snort at my own description: they were always beautiful young girls, weren't they? "Orphaned, living in a dungeon, stuck with her shitty relatives - a stepmother and stepsisters, I think. Wants to change her life and all that. You'll find her in that courtyard," I added, waving in the general direction of the manor house behind me."Her fairy godmother's coming pretty soon - she was sent about a half hour ago. Her name's Ella, wants to marry a prince. Good luck."_

 _As I moved to walk away, Rumple took hold of my arm. "Thank you, my dear," he said, his tone mocking. "I hope that potion is worth your trouble." His gaze darted to my coat pocket, where the phial rested._

 _I wrenched my arm from his strong grip, revolted. As I marched away, sheathing my dagger, I heard Rumple call out from the manor's gates._

 _"Use it quickly, my dear Lady Scarlet! Your own damsel awaits, and is fading quite quickly!"_

* * *

"So, how was Saturday?" I asked as Ruby slid a mug of tea across the counter to me.

She raised her eyebrows. "First you want nothing to do with that double date, and now you want to know how it went?"

I shrugged. "Just asking. You still went, right?"

"Yeah. It was pretty good." Ruby leaned over to me, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "It was actually perfect." A huge grin stretched across her face, and I couldn't help but laugh at how incredibly happy she looked.

"And . . . are you happy I didn't come?" I asked tentatively, and Ruby paused for a moment, pursing her red lips.

"Oh, hell," she muttered. "Sure, why not? By the way, it's a weekday," Ruby added. I nodded in acknowledgement. "Don't you ever go to school?"

"Hmm . . . sometimes," I consented, stirring a spoonful of sugar into my cup of tea. "But it's lunch hour at the moment, so I'm okay." Ruby gestured to the clock on the wall, and I read the time: 1:34. "Well crap."

"What subject?" she asked, brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

"Uh - English? No, not . . . okay, it's geography." I shrugged again, giving my friend a 'what-can-you-do?' look.

"How are you still passing?" Ruby demanded.

"You forget, dear Ruby, that one of your best friends is a certifiable genius with a caffeine addiction," I said, taking another sip of tea. "Also, I don't really know if I am. Guess I'll find out after the semester."

Ruby rolled her eyes at this response, and went to deliver a hot chocolate to Emma Swan, who was reading the newspaper at a window seat in the diner.

As my friend walked back to the counter, Regina entered Granny's and took a seat across from Emma, who looked surprised to see the other woman.

"Again? Really?" Ruby said quietly as we watched the two women argue. "When is Regina going to back off?"

"Don't know," I replied, watching Emma; she seemed a bit perturbed by the mayor's final statement as Regina stood up and strode out of the diner in her usual haughty fashion. I was beginning to think mayor Mills thought she was royalty.

"Graham asked me to convince her to join the Sheriff's department," I remarked as Emma stood up and spilled hot chocolate all over her front. Ruby raised her eyebrows at this comment, saying, "And will you?"

"If I get bored, maybe. I'm not Graham's maidservant." Ruby opened her mouth to say something, but stopped as Emma approached the two of us at the counter.

"You have a laundry room I could use?" she asked us, looking exasperated. I nodded, pointing her in the right direction.

"So . . . how's Ashley?" I asked. Ashley Boyd, a mutual friend of ours, was expecting - and expecting pretty soon. She'd explained to Ruby and I that the baby's grandfather had gotten her a deal with Mr. Gold, one of the most unpleasant and conniving people in Storybrooke. Gold would pay Ashley to give him the child, something that frustrated me to no end: no matter how good Ashley was at hiding it around other people, I knew she wanted this kid. She was being forced to give her child away, and to someone like Mr. Gold.

"She's still stuck with that damned deal," Ruby muttered angrily. "Sean's dad is such a -"

"Douche? Asshole? Waste of valuable oxygen?" I offered, knowing how similar our feelings towards Mr. Herman were.

Ruby nodded in agreement. "Ashley's due pretty soon - I just hope . . . well, maybe she won't go through with it." I opened my mouth to say something, but Ruby cut me off. "I know, I know - it's Gold, and no one can break a deal with him. But maybe . . . I mean, you know how much she wants this kid . . ."

I let her trail off, the thought hanging in the air. I knew what Ruby meant: I was hoping for the maybe myself, but I was aware of how often the universe disregarded 'maybes'.

* * *

 _The night air was warm and balmy, and the fireworks overhead looked like fairy dust being sprinkled across the sky._

 _I stood near the back of the party, watching all of the elegantly-dressed guests dance and talk. I myself was dressed up for the occasion: a simple satiny crimson gown, with a skirt that weighed about a hundred pounds and a corset that took away my ability to breathe. Needless to say, I was sorely missing my trousers. However, it was imperative that I remain at the party - the wedding reception for Ella and Prince Thomas' marriage. I was lurking along the walls, avoiding dances and trying not to trip over my skirts or my heels. Silently cursing Rumplestiltskin for sending me there, I remembered exactly why that man was sending me anywhere and instantly sobered up. With an irritatingly complex enchantment, I was spying on the newlyweds: eavesdropping on their various conversations, which were all boring as hell._

 _"My dear Ella," said a man's voice. It was Thomas' father, the king, as he danced with his new daughter-in-law across the ballroom. "We are thrilled to have you join our family." Ella nodded politely, smiling at her father-in-_  
 _law._

 _"And I hope our family will soon be growing," he added, and Ella smiled softly. I felt a spike of discomfort: was that the king's not-very-subtle subtle way of suggesting she have his grandchildren faster?_

 _"Congratulations, Ella," Prince James said, smiling at the blonde. "You two are going to be very happy together."_

 _"Why thank you, James," Ella replied. I was waiting for Rumple to get a move on and get me out of there sooner as I listened to Snow White give the new princess some more well-wishing._

 _Suddenly, as if summoned by my thoughts, a raspy voice said mockingly, "I'm proud of you, too."_

 _"You," Ella said solemnly as Rumplestiltskin moved to dance with her. "What are you doing here?" I wanted desperately to go over and shake some sense into the girl._

 _"I just wanted to make sure you were happy with your end of the bargain," he said in that mockingly-caring tone. "You know - true love, riches, happy endings - did you get everything you desired?"_

 _"Yes," Ella said quickly. "Yes I did, now what do you want? What's your price? My jewels? The ring?"_

 _"No, no, dear, keep your baubles," Rumple whispered, and I rolled my eyes. He was going to drag this out, wasn't he? "What I want is something you don't yet possess, but something I know is coming," he sang darkly into the princess' ear. "Your first-born." And with that he spun her away from himself and strode out of the ballroom, dragging me along with him._

 _"Thank you, dearie, that will do," he said quietly, as he towed me along after him. I scrambled to keep up, now verbally cursing the shoes and dress._

 _"Stop moving so damn fast!" I exclaimed furiously. He stopped in the castle grounds, sitting on the edge of a fountain, waiting. I kicked off the heels, tossing them into the shrubbery. Then I ripped off the ballgown, laying it on a bush. Pulling a small knife out of the skirts, I cut loose the corset and tossed that to the ground, as well. And, for good measure, I stomped on it._

 _"Stupid, damned, torturous -" I muttered, digging the material into the soft earth with my bare feet. I brushed myself off, feeling much better._

 _"You're standing in your underclothes," Rumple pointed out, gesturing at the linen chemise that was the only thing covering my body. I shrugged, not really caring - as if Rumplestiltskin viewed nakedness the same way as every other man._

 _"Who cares if you see me in my underclothes?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest. The chemise ended only a little past my thighs, and I knew if any of the royals were to come down and see me, they would probably faint from the shock. That would have been quite the sight._

 _"Right then," Rumple said, looking awkward. "Did you get it?"_

 _I rolled my eyes. "Did I get it? Yes, I got it. I'm also a bit insulted that you think I might not have." I reached into the skirts of my gown again and pulled out the strange request Rumple had made: a hair I'd gotten off of the new princess' gown as she passed by me._

 _"Well done, dearie," he said quietly, taking the hair from me. "Now I will always find her; she will never be able to hide from me. Or hide the child from me."_

 _I raised my eyebrows at him expectantly. "Our deal, Rumple?"_

 _"Hmm? Oh, yes, that." He slipped a crystal phial out of his jacket pocket: identical to the last one he'd given me, only this one glowed violet instead of blue._

 _"And this - this one will work?" I asked, glaring at him. "Permanently?"_

 _Rumple sighed dramatically. "Yes, my Lady Scarlet - this potion will permanently cure your dear -" he ceased talking as he spotted my icy gaze. "Yes, it will cure her. For good this time. I'm sorry about the last one, dearie, but I needed you for a bit longer."_

 _I nodded, not even listening, as I clutched the phial in one hand tightly, as if someone might take it away at any moment. When I looked up, Rumplestiltskin was gone._

* * *

"So this boyfriend of hers, you don't think he was involved in her disappearance?" Emma asked skeptically.

I rolled my eyes at the mention of Sean, and Ruby snapped, "That would mean he's involved with her at all, which he isn't."

"He left her," I said flatly; Ashley had been devastated after Sean broke up with her, and I honestly didn't like to think about the fact that I hadn't smacked him upside the head yet.

"Right after they found out they were expecting," Ruby added, looking as angry as I felt.

Just then, Ruby's bright red car slammed down from the tow truck that had drove it in. She ran over to talk to the mechanic, Billy, who had driven it over to Granny's. She was eyeing him, though, and I knew that look: she wasn't really mad. In fact, she was checking him out.

"Discretion, Ruby," I muttered next to her, and she shrugged indifferently at me.

"Hey, Ruby," Emma said, trying to regain the brunette's attention. "What about her family?"

"Oh, she has a stepmom and two stepsisters she doesn't talk to," Ruby said, still glancing at Billy every few seconds.

"Complete b-" I began, then stopped when I looked at Henry. "-bad people. They are, um, really bad. Awful, in fact."

"Nice save, dork," Ruby remarked, grinning. I glared up at her.

"Wait," said Henry; for a moment I got down on my psychological knees and silently prayed for a reprieve from awkward questions. "Stepmom? Stepsisters? And she's a maid?" I glanced up at the sky, now thanking the entities that had deigned to rescue me.

"Look, I don't know what you heard," Ruby said, suddenly serious. "But it's wrong. Everyone thinks she's not ready to have this kid, but - well, she's trying. She's trying to get her life together."

I nodded in agreement. "She just needs a chance."

"Maybe you should just stay out of it," Ruby suggested. "She's been through enough already."

"I've been through it, too, Ruby, and I can help her," Emma said.

Ruby sighed. "Fine. Try her ex."

As she walked back inside the diner, I sidled up to Emma and Henry, smiling. "So . . . what're you two doing?"

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Oh, come on - I know that look: Graham has it whenever he's working a case. I could be helpful," I added. "Please let me come?"

Emma gave me a quick once-over. "You're the kid whose always with Graham, trying to do police stuff? The one that follows him to crime scenes?" I nodded slowly, not certain where she was going with this. Blowing a sigh out of her nose, Emma nodded once. "Alright, let's go. But be useful, and don't tell Graham about this. It's strictly off-the-record stuff, okay?"

"Thank you!" I said, following her and Henry off the diner's patio and into her yellow Bug. I climbed into the backseat, while Emma and her son sat in the front.

"This is where you can be useful," Emma said, turning to look at me. "Where does this kid live?"

Ten minutes later, the Bug was parked outside Sean Herman's house. I followed Emma out of the car, while she told Henry to stay behind.

Sean opened the door, and we shared an awkward glance: I was the friend of his ex-girlfriend, who was a few days away from giving birth to their child. I understood how weird that was. But I still glared coldly at him; he was still the Sean that had screwed one of my only friends, then left her to deal with the kid.

"Lindsey," he said, nodding in my direction. I continued to glare. He turned to Emma. "Who are you?"

"I'm Emma Swan," she replied. "I'm looking for Ashley Boyd - she's in trouble. Just thought maybe she came to see you?"

"My son doesn't have anything to do with that girl anymore," said a man's voice from behind us. I turned around to see Sean's father striding up the front steps and into the front doorway.

"So whatever trouble she's in, I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do to help you." He concluded, standing in front of Emma and ignoring me entirely.

"You're the reason he broke up with her?" Emma asked. I raised my eyebrows; this was new information.

"Absolutely. I'm not going to let my son throw away his entire life over a mistake." Now I wanted to hit Mr. Herman more than Sean. He and Emma continued to argue until the man retreated inside the house. Sean butted in, saying, "Maybe we should help them look." His father walked up beside him and said stiffly, "Sean. Inside. Now." I rolled my eyes as Sean obeyed.

"Look," said Mr. Herman. "If I knew where she was, I would tell you. I went to a lot of trouble to get her that deal."

I rolled my eyes at the mention of his deal, but Emma asked in confusion, "What deal?"

Mr. Herman shot me a quick glare before turning back to Emma. "Ashley agreed to give up the child - and she's being paid very well to do so."

"You got her to sell the baby?" Emma asked softly, her eyes wide and horrified. I looked up at her: had she really not known? It was horrible - selling a child, after all - but why wasn't she aware?

"You make it sound so crass," Mr. Herman said.

I scowled. "Yeah - that's because it is," I snapped, unable to stop myself. He glowered at me.

"I found someone whose going to find that child a good and proper home," he added, as if to redeem himself in our eyes.

"And who are you to say whether or not Ashley is capable of providing that?" Emma demanded.

"Look at her," he said in exasperation. "She's a teenager. She's never shown any hint at being responsible." That was when I snapped a bit - I reared back and kicked Mr. Herman in the shin as hard as I could. He swore and moved away from me, clutching his ankle and glaring.

"Do not talk about my friend like that!" I said furiously. "Ashley may make mistakes, but she is a far better person than you'll ever understand!" The two of us stood there for a moment, glaring icily at each other before Emma stepped in.

"What if she's changing her life," Emma said quietly.

"Everybody says that," he replied, and I suppressed the urge to kick him again. "You should find her soon; she can't break this deal. No one breaks deals with him."

"Mr. Gold," I said quietly, revulsion building in my chest.

Mr. Herman nodded and looked at Emma. "Isn't that why you were hired? To bring him the baby?" Emma seemed shocked, and I blew out a sigh; she hadn't known.

Driving back to Granny's in the Bug, Emma confronted me. "How could you not tell me she sold the baby?!"

I shrugged from the backseat. "Didn't seem relevant . . . and I wasn't sure if you'd go through with the job if you knew the truth. I didn't know if you'd bring the kid to Gold. Ashley wants this kid, okay?"

"Whatever," Henry said. "You can't let her break her deal with Gold. No one ever breaks deals with him!"

"Happy to be the first," Emma said flatly. Then she glanced at me in the rear-view mirror. "And I'm not bringing the baby to Gold. Anyone who wants to be a mother should damn well be allowed to be one," she added, and I saw Henry smile at that.

* * *

Emma and Henry walked into Granny's, me trailing behind them. The blonde strode up to Ruby at the counter and said, "Alright, why didn't you tell me Ashley sold the baby?"

Ruby glanced at me, but I held my hands up defensively. "I didn't tell her." With a small sigh, my friend turned back to Emma. "Look, Ashley's my friend; I don't like the idea of people judging her." As Ruby flounced away, Emma picked up a small glittering object on the counter: the red wolf charm that usually hung from the mirror in Ruby's car. I pinched the bridge of my nose: Ruby and Ashley may be some of my best friends, but they didn't always think . . . well, rationally.

"Ruby, where's your car?" Emma demanded, and the brunette turned around a bit awkwardly.

"You didn't send me to Sean to find her, did you?" Emma continued. "You sent me there to give her a headstart." Ruby said nothing, just wiped the counter down. "Ruby, I am only trying to help her," the blonde pleaded. "Ashley is in a lot of trouble. She cannot break that deal with Gold, not on her own, alright? Just help me find her."

There was a pause, then, "I can't talk in front of him. He's the mayor's kid."

"Hey!" Henry said defensively. "I'm on your side!" Ruby didn't budge. Emma leaned down to talk to Henry, and looked up at me. "Can you take Henry home?" I knew I looked a bit crestfallen - mostly because I was - and Emma added, "You can come right back. I just need someone to make sure he gets home safe."

I nodded, and walked with Henry out of the diner while Emma and Ruby talked. Once outside, next to the yellow Bug, Henry stopped and looked up at me.

"Don't tell Emma," he whispered, and proceeded to crawl into the back, ducking underneath the seats.

"Kid!" I said, but before I could continue, Emma herself stepped out of the diner. "Where's Henry?" she asked suspiciously. I opened my mouth to say something, but a sharp kick to my calf reminded me of his request.

"Home, went by himself," I said. Emma clearly didn't believe me, but it was the best lie I could fabricate on the spot. "You can't come," she added, noticing the open door behind me. I closed the door and crossed my arms.

"And why is that?" I asked.

"Because you need to do something for me," she said, lowering her voice. "Until I can find Ashley, get her somewhere safe . . . I need you to distract Gold."

* * *

Five minutes later, I stood outside Mr. Gold's pawnshop, staring at the bold 'open' sign and dreading complying with its request. Finally, I forced myself to open the front door, walking tentatively inside the store. I still had no idea what Emma meant by 'distract', but she'd also said she's call me as soon as Ashley was safe. I silently prayed that Ashley would hurry up and be saved a bit faster.

"Um . . . Mr. Gold?" I asked, clearing my throat and standing in front of the cash register. the man himself was nowhere to be seen, although his trinkets still littered the shop. I was glancing around suspiciously, half-expecting him to appear out of thin air.

Just be your normal, annoying self, I thought, but jumped about five feet in the air when a voice behind me said, "What can I help you with, dearie?"

I whirled around, coming face-to-face with Gold, who smiled menacingly down at me. I shrugged, taking a quick step backward. "Not sure," I said, trying to figure out how to distract him. "Uh . . . I was just - I was looking for . . . um, a - uh - a present!" I said, glad to finally spit out the damn sentence. "Yes, a present for my aunt Caroline," I continued, the lies flowing far easier. "It's her birthday soon." Lie - her birthday was four months ago. I just really hoped Gold didn't know that. "And I really wanted to find her something special."

Gold raised his eyebrows but didn't press me further, walking around to stand behind the register. I glanced around the room, wondering if I could just knock him out with something; there were quite the number of blunt objects available. "Is that so Miss Welles?" he said quietly. I didn't ask how he knew my name; he knew everyone's name, especially when they happen to have an arrest record.

"And what kind of special present do you think would suit your dear aunt?" he continued, looking around the room with me. I froze, noticing the edge inching into his voice; he knew I was lying.

"Okay, so I'm not exactly looking for a present," I said, figuring it would involve less maiming if I confessed upfront. "I'm . . . I'm here for Graham, who heard there was a break-in recently!"

Gold looked a bit taken aback, and I suppressed a grin. Follow-up for the Sheriff: not bad cover, Welles. Now let's see if you can keep it up. "I just have a few routine questions," I added, pulling out my notebook and pen. "You don't mind to comply with the police department, do you, Mr. Gold?" I gave him a look that was all innocence, and he nodded stiffly after a moment. "So, um . . . can you tell me what your attacker looked like?" I asked.

"Well, she was young - a teenager. Blonde, I think . . ." I scribbled in my notebook, sketching a quick ladybug. "Say, Miss Welles, aren't you a friend of Ashley Boyd?" I froze, ceasing my scribbling to glance up at him; Gold merely looked curious. "Um . . . yeah, we're friends," I said nonchalantly. "Was this attack how you got the scar?" I continued, gesturing to my hairline. He nodded absently, and I wrote something else down: 'Gold needs to work on his people skills'.

"Any other significant details you can remember? Did the attacker take something?" I pressed, and at this Gold looked me dead in the eye with an icy glare that could have felled a lion from fifty feet.

"You're aware of Miss Boyd's theft," he said; it wasn't a question. "Why are you here?" I blocked his path to the door as he began to walk around the register.

"Um . . . I told you," I said, trying to play off the lie. "I'm here for the Sheriff."

"No, you're not," he began, but I cut him off quickly. "I have some more questions, actually. I'm just an incredibly curious person, Mr. Gold. Why do you walk with a limp? That's always been something I've wondered." I was rambling now, but I couldn't seem to stop myself. "How is it that you acquired so much property? You own, like, half the town or something. Where is the rest of your family? Don't you at least have aunts and cousins or anything? Do you have any kids?" Now I was walking backwards, blocking his path to the door.

"This is about Miss Boyd, isn't it?" he asked, but I was still babbling.

"Why don't you ever cut your hair? I mean, Miss Blanchard his shorter hair than you. You'd look good in a pixie cut, you know." I took a small pause to breathe. "Never mind, don't get a pixie cut. Please." I was standing with my back pressed against the door now, Gold glaring down at me.

"Do you really need that cane? Or is it just to beat people who annoy you?" I'd always secretly suspected that; however, our current position did not make that theory sound very welcome. "Never mind, don't answer that. You know what? I actually really have to go." And with that, I slipped out the shop's front door, slamming it shut and holding it closed as Gold pounded on the other side.

* * *

"No, you can't - go -in - there!" I managed to huff out as I tried to push Mr. Gold back down the hospital hallway and out the door. He kept moving forward, and I sighed angrily, running to block the doorway into the maternity ward.

"Stop!" I commanded, although I didn't sound nearly as intimidating as necessary because of how out of breath I was from trying to stop Mr. Gold all the way across Storybrooke.

He jabbed my foot with his cane and pushed me aside, opening the door and walking in.

". . . And the mother is doing fine," a nurse finished telling Emma, who smiled.

"What lovely news," Mr. Gold said, and the smile vanished from Emma's face. I ran over and tried to push him back out of the ward, but he pushed me to the side again. "Good work, Miss Swan," he continued, and I scowled. "Thank you for returning my merchandise."

He calmly crossed the waiting room and began to make himself a cup of coffee at the machine. Emma walked over to him furiously and stood next to the man, demanding his attention. "A baby? That's your merchandise?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked, and then looked at me. "And Lindsey! You were supposed to keep him distracted!"

"I tried!" I said. "I actually had to try and barricade him in his own damn shop! Nothing worked! And I can't exactly fight him in broad daylight, now can I?"

"Miss Welles fought valiantly," Gold said. "And as for telling you, Miss Swan: at the time, you didn't need to know."

"Really? Or you thought I wouldn't take the job?" Emma asked him in disbelief.

"On the contrary, I thought it would be more effective if you found out yourself. After you saw the situation, I thought it would make sense to you."

"You are not getting that kid," Emma said flatly. She glanced over at me. "Lindsey, do you mind to stand guard outside Ashley's room for a bit?" I nodded, and left them to it. If Emma wanted to deal with Gold she was welcome to try.

I hurried over to the nearest nurse, who took me to Ashley's room. She glanced up and waved me over happily; we hugged quickly. "The next time you and Ruby devise an escape plan, let me know," I said, grinning. "For the moment, I'm here to guard you if Gold comes." At this Ashley paled, but I shook my head. "Emma's dealing with him. He won't come near her, I swear."

"Thank you, Lindsey," she whispered as I went to stand in front of the door. I nodded at her, still smiling.

Soon enough, Emma came in to assure Ashley that the child was in fact hers. Then Sean appeared, and I raised an eyebrow at him as he entered the room. "Don't be an idiot," I muttered as I passed him, waving good-bye to Ashley; they probably needed to be alone. And I really needed to tell Ruby what had happened. As I walked out of the hospital I saw Emma and Henry running over to the Bug. The kid waved at me, and Emma smiled. I waved back, running off to Granny's.

After all that excitement, I seriously needed a hot chocolate and a best friend to calm me down.

* * *

 _It was a beautiful night: the stars shone brightly overhead, and I was sprinting up the path to a small farmhouse with the warm summer breeze swirling around me, billowing out my cloak._

 _I reached the farmhouse in a matter of moments, wrenching open the front door and hurrying up the stairs towards the bedroom. I could hear the coughing fit from outside the dwelling, it was so loud, but I tried to ignore that as I slipped inside the room, still holding the phial. I threw off my cloak, dropping it on the foot of the bed and walking over to the woman laying in the blankets, coughing: she was small, middle-aged and dark-haired, with a button nose and freckles. She smiled softly as she noticed me, and I uncorked the phial, handing it to her. "This was will work - permanently," I whispered reassuringly. The woman nodded weakly, lifting the phial to her lips and swallowing its luminescent contents._

 _There was a long, still moment - the woman's eyes flashed a bright violet - and then she sighed in contentment. The pain in her eyes faded, and her eyelids fluttered closed. Her breathing calmed, and suddenly she was asleep, looking perfectly fine._

 _"'Night, Izzy," I whispered to her, standing up and wrapping my cloak around myself again. She needed to sleep._

 _I left my aunt's farmhouse with an overwhelming sense of relief. She was healed; she was safe. My mother hadn't been savable - but I could heal her sister, Isadora. I had saved her._


	5. That Still Small Voice

"Truth or dare?"

"This is ridiculous," I muttered. Ruby and I were in my bedroom, Ruby sitting cross-legged on the foot of my bed, me on the floor with a half-empty bowl of popcorn between us.

"Truth or dare, Lindsey Welles?" Ruby repeated insistently. I sighed, leaning back on my hands.

"Truth," I conceded, and Ruby looked a bit disappointed. "Ruby, this game is for, like, children. I can't believe how clich d this is."

Ruby rolled her eyes, then said, "Alright, truth . . . Do you follow Graham around because you like the police work, or because you're head-over-heels in love with him?"

I blanched at this question, and gagged melodramatically at my friend. "Graham? You're kidding me, right? No, I am NOT in love with him!"

It was then that the entire room began shaking, throwing popcorn to the floor, and Ruby and I shared a worried glance before she sprang to my bedroom window and peered outside. "People are all running down the street - looks like it came from there." She pointed down past main street.

I leapt up, grabbed Ruby's hand and made a beeline for the front door as Caroline walked out of the basement, looking alarmed. "Where're you going?"

"Um . . . just a quick errand," I said, pulling on shoes and grabbing the car keys while grasping at thin air for an explanation. When none were available, I shrugged and said, "Gotta run, love you, bye!" I threw open the door and ran outside, Ruby following suit.

We slid into Caroline's beat-up car and my best friend turned my spare key in the ignition. Ruby sped down the street, towards the source of the quaking.

When we reached the small expanse of hole-infested dirt, Ruby parked the car and we climbed out, searching the crowd for anyone who could tell us something. I spotted the police car pulling up, and Ruby and I rushed over as Graham and Emma got out.

"Hey," Emma said in way of greeting, and I waved at her and Graham, trying to ignore the fact that less than ten minutes beforehand Ruby had questioned whether or not I was in love with him.

"What the hell was that?" Ruby demanded, and both Emma and the Sheriff shrugged.

"No idea, but -"

"Clear the area, everyone stay calm!" Regina Mills was striding up through the crowd towards us, her black coat swirling around her legs.

"Marco, why don't you help with the perimeter. You two," she said, looking distastefully at Ruby and I, "Get out of the way. Miss Swan, this now official town business, you're free to go."

"Actually," Emma replied. "I work for the town now."

"She's my new deputy," Graham explained. I raised my eyebrows; so he'd convinced her at last. At least I didn't have to get involved - Graham's love life, which Emma was probably a part of, was not something I was keen on interfering with.

"They say the mayor is always the last to know," Regina said, and Graham gave her a look. "It's in my budget."

There was a moment of tense silence between the two before Regina turned to Emma and said, "Fine. Deputy, go help with crowd control and cord off the area." The blonde nodded, and the mayor glanced over at Ruby and I. "Didn't I already tell you to get out of the way?" Ruby grabbed my hand and pulled me back to Caroline's car, where I quickly cursed Regina for being so - so -

"Superior?" Ruby suggested. "Come on, Lindsey, Caroline'll be waiting, and honestly there's nothing for even you to do here."

I opened my mouth to argue, but decided against it; Ruby was right. There wasn't anything to do - it was just a bunch of collapsed mines.

"Besides, we have a game of 'Truth or Dare' to finish," Ruby added, sliding into the driver's seat. "And I still have a list of questions that I'm dying for answers to." I groaned in frustration, slamming the passenger door closed.

* * *

 _". . . they'll be in safe hands, and you'll be free." The rasping voice that I was far too familiar with hissed through the tower's shadow-strewn air. I sighed; Rumplestiltskin was always pulling out the dramatics for his new customers. I watched as the bespectacled man took the phial and walked cautiously out of the room, hurrying down the spiral staircase below. I waited until his footsteps were no longer heard to step out of the shadowed corner._

 _"Evening, Rumple," I said, a smirk dancing on my lips as I lazily crossed the room to where the Dark One sat, having resumed his spinning._

 _"Hello, dearie," he replied, not even looking up from his books._

 _"Don't call me that," I snapped; I'd never liked his patronizing terms of endearment, and my hatred for this one showed quite obviously._

 _He raised his eyebrows at my sudden snap, and I let out a long breath before saying, "Sorry - not in a good mood."_

 _"Are you ever?" he asked skeptically, and I shrugged, unsure if the answer to that question was bad or not: it was true that I was rarely in a particularly good mood._

 _"Irrelevant," I said, disregarding his attention to detail. "I have it." Rumple stopped spinning and looked up at me, a greedy light entering his gaze as I reached into the folds of my cloak and extracted a folded piece of parchment that had probably seen better days: it was ripped around the edges, and dirt was smudged across its surface. I unfolded it to show Rumple the list of names. He reached for it, but I held it just out of his grasp. He growled something unintelligible, and I took a step back as he went to grab the parchment again._

 _"What's your price?" he spat, looking furious. I fingered the parchment, thinking._

 _"Hmm . . . let's see: a list of traitors among King George's court, complete with their conspiracies. It took a while to compile this." I paced slowly and thoughtfully around to stand behind Rumple. "You don't happen to have . . . I don't know, a fairy's wand, do you?" I asked quietly. "A very specific fairy's wand?"_

 _He let out a dry laugh. "Delphine's, you mean?" His mouth stretched into that gruesome parody of a smile, and he laughed again. "It won't bring her back, dearie. That ship sailed long ago." Then he stood, walking over to me. "Why do you want it, I wonder?" he said, menace twisting his voice. "There wouldn't be any disgraced fairies that want their powers back, would there?"_

 _I shook my head angrily. "No. But I need the wand, Rumple. Hand it over, or -" I held the parchment over the blazing fireplace, "-I burn the list."_

 _"You've memorised every name on that parchment," Rumple scoffed._

 _I shrugged. "Yes, maybe I have. But you know you won't get at them - not in my head. So give me the wand, and you can have your precious traitors." There was a tense moment of silence between us, each waiting for the other to back down. When I inched the list closer to the fire, however, Rumple caved; he reached over to his desk and tossed something through the air that I caught: a wand made of glittering onyx. "There's your trinket, dearie; now give me the list."_

 _I placed the parchment in his reptilian hand and strode down the staircase, determined to get the hell out of that castle._

* * *

"They're going to blow through the ground," Ruby said, dragging me back behind Storybrooke's one and only firetruck.

"Wait, what?" I asked, and I could feel the blood drain from my face. "No, they can't -"

But they did.

As the explosives went off, I could feel every bone in my body shaking. Smoke and dust billowed out around the mines, and I coughed a bit as it drifted close to the small crowd that had and Archie Hopper were trapped inside the mines, and the brilliant plan was to blow through the ground. I wanted to smack someone - preferably the person who decided that that was the best solution.

"Did it work?" Regina asked as Deputy Swan came running out of the dust.

"It didn't work," she said, clearly distraught. But Graham was asking the right questions as he asked grimly, "Then what did it do?"

"It couldn't work," I said in exasperation as I walked over to the Sheriff. "Those mines are probably about as stable as a Jenga tower, and you just blew them up. You affected the _inside_ , people!" I looked at them all incredulously. Regina was glaring; Emma and Graham looked alarmed, to put it mildly. Inside the firetruck, Pongo - Archie's Dalmatian - was barking insistently at the half-open window. Emma glanced at the dog as well, and before I could say anything she was opening the door and pulling Pongo outside.

"It's Archie's dog," Emma explained to the confused looks she received from Regina and Graham. "I think he can smell Archie!"

Pongo stopped at a dirt-covered grate in the ground, which Emma and Graham pulled out to reveal a dark shaft. "Mine shaft," Emma said quietly.

I watched as Emma and Regina shared a brief but heated argument, before the mayor consented to the deputy being lowered into the shaft to rescue Henry and Archie. Graham helped her into a harness, and Emma was slowly lowered into the shaft. Soon, there was a huge rattling from within. Ruby clutched my hand tightly as the ground shook, rocks falling into the shaft. I bit my lip worriedly, genuine fear building inside my chest as it hit me: they could die in there. Kind, patient Archie, adorkable Henry and Emma, who I was beginning to like - they could all die. I held Ruby's hand tighter at the thought.

The shaking soon passed and there was a huge crash that echoed up from the mine shaft; I couldn't tell if it was my hand or Ruby's that was shaking that badly.

Then, Emma was being pulled out of the shaft, holding Henry tightly and Archie dangling from the harness by his umbrella. I choked on a hysterical laugh at the sight, and it came out as a sort of strangled hiccup.

Ruby let go of my hand and we rushed over with everyone else to pull them out of the shaft; Emma slipped out of the harness and went to see Henry, who seemed perfectly alright. Archie and Marco were grinning at each other, and hugged. Ruby and I went to see the shrink, who smiled at both of us. We hugged him quickly, relief making us all a tad hysterical. I glanced over to where Emma was shoved aside by Regina, who went to see Henry, and I felt a flicker of pain for the blonde. She had saved him, after all.

"I should go," I said to Ruby, who was eyeing Billy from across the police tape.

"Are you sure?" she asked, looking disappointed. "I thought we were all going to stay, celebrate the fact that no one died or anything."

I shook my head, turning to walk back home. "It'll be late soon, and Caroline might get worried. I'll see you tomorrow?"

Ruby nodded, and I clutched my jacket tighter around me as I went home.

* * *

 _"Don't make this harder on yourself." The man's voice is full of controlled anger. "Just tell me, and you'll be free to go."_

 _I shake my head numbly, unable to focus on his face. I feel my head jerked backwards and am plunged into something incredibly cold - water. I inhale, and my throat burns._

 _Suddenly, I'm running down a long corridor, a gown billowing about my legs. "Down there!" Someone shouts from behind me, and I hear a clamour of footsteps; torchlight gleams on the polished marble floor. "Don't touch me!" I scream, wrenching my arm free from the woman's grasp. "You did that - you killed her. Not me, you."_

 _Then I am standing on a grassy cliff, overlooking a grey ocean that churns with the storm above it. An arrow whizzes past my face and I duck. A hand shoves me to the ground, and I stumble to the edge of the sheer drop. A foot catches me in the back, and I am falling straight towards the tumbling waves of the water: fifty feet, thirty, ten -_

"Lindsey! Lindsey, it's me, it's okay. Wake up!" Caroline shook me, and I slowly blinked my eyes open, everything a bit blurred from sleep.

"Caroline?" I whispered thickly. "God, what time is it?"

"One thirty," she said quietly. "Lindsey - it was just another nightmare." I carefully sat up in bed, stretching my arms above my head. I sat on the edge of the mattress, dangling my feet over the side.

Caroline wraps an arm around my shoulders and looks at me worriedly. "They're getting worse, aren't they?" I glance over at the notebook laying on my dresser; I could get her out of the room, write down the dream . . .  
No. I have to tell her. This is Caroline, after all - if anyone deserves to know, it's her. For a moment, I consider lying to her: telling her that they aren't that bad, that maybe they're fading a bit now. I could tell her something that would make her sleep a little easier afterwards. But I can't do that - she would never lie to me. Not like that. So I tell her the only thing I can tell her.

"Yeah, maybe." Neutral; doesn't give too much away. "I just . . . I don't know. They feel much more like - well, like memories than dreams - or, uh, like nightmares, I mean."

We sat in total silence for a few minutes after that lame and bizarre response. Then Caroline whispered, "I'll see you in the morning," and I nodded quietly and she stood up and left the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

I stared at the notebook for a moment before walking over and opening it to a fresh page. The dream still vivid in my mind, I scribbled the burning of the water in my lungs, the fear pumping through my veins as I raced down the hallway. I sketched the one thing that stood out to me: the sight as I plummeted from the cliff, into the ocean below.


	6. The Curious Case of Mr and Mrs Nolan

Taking another sip of coffee, I glanced around the Nolan's living room, trying to act inconspicuous.

The curiousness of Kathryn and David's situation had sparked my interest - the fact that it took her so many years to find that the only John Doe in the town's only hospital was actually her presumed-missing husband seemed like one hell of a coincidence, especially because her arrival had been timed perfectly to fit Regina's needs. The mayor hadn't liked how close David and Mary Margaret were getting, when suddenly a long-lost wife drops out of the sky.

I wasn't fond of coincidences involving Regina Mills, and this entire thing was suspicious.

Caroline and I had been invited the David's welcome-home party - mostly because I had been part of the group who found him stranded in the woods - and I had seized the opportunity as the perfect time to investigate the Mr and Mrs Nolan situation. Fortunately, Caroline was busy across the room, talking avidly to an elderly couple about their antiques shop; my aunt could start a friendly conversation with Attila the Hun if necessary. I was wandering about the living room, studying its contents: trying to determine if the framed pictures had been photoshopped, if there were any disturbing shrines tucked out of sight. Really searching for anything that screamed 'creepy-stalker-woman-who-is-willing-to-lie-about-an-amnesiac's-identity-in-order-to-falsify-their-marriage'. So far, nothing had sprung up.

As discreetly as possible, I set my styrofoam cup down on the edge of the nearest table and slipped out of the living room, entering the kitchen. It was fairly normal-looking: examining the shelves and spice rack out of the corner of my eye, nothing particularly odd stood out. Kathryn and Regina were talking up near the counter, and I turned my back to them, pretending to take an interest in a photograph on the wall of David and Kathryn standing on the pier in town, his arm around her waist, both of them grinning at the camera. The photo looked legitimate enough.

I walked over to Kathryn and Regina, and asked the blonde, "Could I use your washroom?" She smiled and pointed me in the right direction, and I thanked her and headed up the stairs. My chances now taken, I turned right where Mrs. Nolan said left and walked silently down a small hallway. At the end of it, I opened the door, wincing when it creaked a bit.

Tip-toeing inside, I wandered about the bedroom. It was simple: bed (perfectly made, with a cute quilt draped over the foot of it), dresser (organised, clean), and a few shelves (mostly more picture frames and books). I picked a photo off of the dresser, peering down at a smiling Kathryn and David. It was as if she wanted their undying love displayed all over the house, and I wrinkled my nose at the thought. Sickly sweet, but not stalker-ish exactly.

I set the picture back down and took a quick look in the top dresser drawer: just shirts, half of them women's and half men's. I raised an eyebrow: a guy definitely had lived there before. The question was whether or not it had been David, because I still doubted her story. A lot.

Finding nothing of actual suspicion or even interest in the bedroom, I slipped back into the hallway and closed the door quietly behind me.

"What do you think you're doing?"

I spun around, trying to act calm and not at all suspicious when I saw Regina Mills standing in the hallway before me, murder in her eyes - or at least a good beating.

"Oh, I was looking for the bathroom, but I think I took a wrong turn," I lied smoothly, shrugging. "I thought she said turn right, so I went right."

"And continued to walk into their bedroom?" Regina said, narrowing her eyes.

"It's dark," I said, trying to sound defensive instead of terrified. "I couldn't see anything 'til I turned on the light, okay?"

There was a moment of silence, in which Regina glared and I tried not to look guilty of anything. I rolled my eyes after a minute or two, my exasperation and natural sarcastic instincts kicking in and removing my fear. "My God, what're you gonna do? Ask Graham to come arrest me for taking a wrong turn?"

Regina looked a bit shocked at my being snippy with her - honestly, I wasn't sure what she expected, me being _me_ after all - and, as she seemed mildly distracted, I walked past her saying, "I think I'll be going now."

"Yes, I think you will be," she said, recovering from her surprise.

I strode down the stairs, thanked Kathryn again for letting me use her washroom (while Regina silently glared at me) and grabbed Caroline's hand, half-pulling her out of the living room. She waved goodbye to the older couple as we left the Nolans' house.

"Lindsey? You okay?" she asked as I slid into the passenger seat of her car. I nodded, flipping through the radio stations as soon as she turned the key in the ignition. Determining that the only local station played crappy music, I switched the radio off as Caroline drove us home.

"What happened?" she ventured, and I shrugged nonchalantly.

"Nothing much, really," I said, not wanting to explain the whole 'I-was-snooping-around-Kathryn-Nolan's-house-because-I-think-she's-a-crazy-fraud-but-I-didn't-get-any-proof-which-sucks' situation. Instead I settled on, "The party was pretty uneventful, actually. Did you have fun?" There, that was neutral. Caroline couldn't find anything suspicious about that statement. I felt a bit bad lying to her, but I knew she would only worry if she knew of my suspicions.

She nodded, smiling. "I was mostly talking to the Caulfields - they run the antiques shop on Georgiana, do you know them? - and they were telling me about this amazing piece they just bought from a collector in New Hampshire . . ." Caroline went on talking about the Caulfields' 'amazing new piece' for the rest of the drive home. I let her talk; she seemed happy enough to describe the thing in great detail, despite the fact that I was barely listening to a word she was saying.

As we pulled up to the small brownstone we called home and walked inside, Caroline pressed something into my hand: a glass stone with a flower bud embedded in its center.

"It's supposed to be a charm to help you sleep," she said, looking hopeful. Caroline had always been as invested in hippy-ish cures as she was in actual scientific methods. "I figured it might help with the nightmares."

I made a face, thinking she wouldn't see it in the dark hallway, but she caught it anyway. "Lindsey, please just try it. You never know," she said in a teasing sing-song voice as she walked downstairs to her bedroom. "It might just work." Then she disappeared into the basement, leaving me standing in a dark hall, holding the charm.

As I slipped out of my clothes and into an old t-shirt, I stared down at the stone for a moment before slipping it underneath my pillow. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't - my money was on the latter - but Caroline was honestly just trying to help, and I needed to trust her.

At two the next morning, when I woke up covered in cold sweat, breathless and tangled in sheets, I was proven dead right on the legitimacy of that charm.

* * *

 _"I have a favour to ask of you."_

 _I didn't turn around, not needing to see the visitor's face to know their name. Instead, I rolled my eyes and notched another arrow, aiming for my makeshift target and firing. The arrow embedded itself in the dead center, and I suppressed a proud smile._

 _"And if I don't want to do you any favours today?" I asked, pulling another arrow out of my quiver. Suddenly, the weapons were jerked out of my hands and thrown across the clearing._

 _I spun around on my heel, glaring daggers at Rumplestiltskin, who grinned devilishly. "Oh, I think you will do this for me, dearie."_

 _He pranced over to me, looking smug. "I have something that you want." He leaned in close to me, his face inches from mine. "Desperately." I scoffed, shoving him away and moving towards my bow and arrows; Rumple flicked his wrist and they skittered away from me again. Scowling, I turned to face him._

 _"What is it?" I asked, not wanting to let my curiosity show; it'd been months since Rumple had asked me to do a job, and I'd almost missed teasing the imp._

 _"I need you to accompany me on a, ah, business transaction," he said, his mouth twisting into a mocking smile. "You will do what I say when we arrive, and it may take . . . well, quite some time. Not that you're busy," he added, glancing at my weapons._

 _I pressed my lips together thoughtfully, thinking it over. "And what exactly is it that I need so desperately, Rumple?"_

 _He tilted his head, studying my reaction. "Why don't we cross that bridge when we get to it. Now . . . do we have an accord?" He held his arm out, as if for me to take._

 _I picked up my weapons, walking over to him. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I don't do pleasantries."_

 _Rumple's smirk stretched into a manic grin. "Not to worry - just don't say that to the King." And with that he snapped his fingers and we were spinning uncontrollably, the ground disappearing beneath our feet and the world around us going black._

 _"I hate teleporting," I muttered._

* * *

"So you just snuck around their house, looking for evidence to convict Kathryn Nolan of being a psychotic stalker?" Ruby looked at me in disbelief. "Lindsey, that's pretty illegal, even by your standards."

I shrugged, picking off another piece from my muffin. "It isn't that far-fetched; people do messed up stuff sometimes. You should know this, Ruby - you're friends with me."

"Yeah, but why would Kathryn Nolan lie about David's identity to fake a marriage between them? And if she's lying, how would all their neighbors remember him?" Ruby countered, plucking a blueberry out of my muffin. I shot her a glare, sliding my food just out of her reach.

"I know, my theory isn't very solid yet -"

"Meaning there is no theory," she said.

"But I just can't shake the feeling that something is seriously off about this whole thing," I concluded, opting to ignore her comment. Sure, my theory really was non-existent - stalker part aside - but I was not about to tell Ruby that.

"I'm pretty sure that just makes you paranoid," Ruby said with a half-smile.

Just then, Regina Mills walked into the diner, striding over to sit across from Mary Margaret and saying something with a small smile that did not conceal the fury in her dark eyes. I raised my eyebrows at Ruby, who shrugged. "I guess she's given up on cornering Emma now."

I glanced over at the two women; Regina was leaning a bit over the table that separated them, and looked menacingly at Mary Margaret as she spoke, keeping her voice too low for me to hear.

"I should get going," I said, sliding the destroyed remains of my muffin across the counter towards Ruby, who grinned and took a small bite before asking, "Where to?"

"The station," I replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I feel morally obligated to welcome Emma on her first day as Storybrooke's deputy." I walked out of Granny's just behind Regina, who had stormed away from Mary Margaret's table in her usual fashion. She paid me no attention as I hurried towards the police station.

When I entered the station I spotted Emma already sitting down, scanning an open file folder.

"Hi," she said, glancing over at me as I leaned against the wall. I gave her a half-smile. "Hi."

"So, you really just tag along with Graham all the time?" she asked curiously, and I nodded.

"Well, I wouldn't say 'tag along' exactly . . ." I began as the Sheriff walked into the room, carrying a box.

"No, you wouldn't," he agreed, rolling his eyes at me. "But that's exactly what happens." He held the box open for Emma and said, "Sometimes the clich s are true." I peered over Emma's head and spotted the pastries in the box.

I grinned. "And sometimes, it's wonderful when clich s are true."

"Alright," Emma said suspiciously, giving Graham a look. "What d'you want?"

He gave her an apologetic look. "You know when I said no night shifts?" Emma looked as if she already knew where this was going, and I did, too. "I need you to work tonight. Just this once."

"Why?" she said, sounding immensely disappointed. I, on the other hand, was frustrated.

"Why don't I just do it?" I asked indignantly. Immediately, a look of horror passed over Graham's face and he shook his head adamantly. "No. No, no, no, no." Emma looked between the two of us in confusion, and I heaved a sigh through my nose.

"Do you remember what happened the last time I left you with a night shift?!" he demanded.

I rolled my eyes dismissively. "The fire was proved unintentional!"

He shook his head again. "No, Lindsey. You are not staying here by yourself. Besides, Emma can do the night shift anyway, can't you?" He looked at the blonde pleadingly, and I sighed again as she said, "You're really lucky you bought a bear claw," while she removed the pastry from the box.

I walked over to Graham, still exasperated, and picked a pastry out myself. "You're so stubborn sometimes."

"And you're so pyromaniacal sometimes!" Graham retorted, putting down the box of doughnuts.

"Oh, welcome to the team, by the way," I added, smiling at Emma, who looked utterly lost and potentially disturbed by our argument.

She looked as if she wanted to say something to that but Mary Margaret walked inside, looking a bit dazed, which effectively stopped her.

"Can I talk to Emma for a minute?" she asked, and Graham nodded, walking into his office. I raised my eyebrows at the teacher, silently asking if I should leave to. She waved her hand indifferently, and I took a seat on the other side of Emma's desk.

"He left his wife," Mary Margaret said hurriedly. "He left her, he left Kathryn!" My eyes widened in shock and I tilted my head to one side, thinking. He left her? An interesting development in the peculiar circumstances of David and Kathryn Nolan (or, as I had begun calling it in my head, 'The Nolan Trap'. Ruby had already informed me of what a stupid name that was, but unfortunately it had stuck).

"Wait, what?" Emma said, looking both confused and astonished.

"He did it for me, he left Kathryn so that we could be together!" Mary Margaret continued, and I suppressed a smile; seeing the woman so happy, it was almost contagious. "He wants me to meet him tonight, and I just - I mean, I'm trying to be strong, but he just keeps coming. I - how do I stop it?" She had circled around to Emma's other side, and I swiveled around in my chair, my curiosity definitely piqued.

"You know, how do I let him go? What would you do?" she asked the blonde.

"I'd go," Emma said.

"What?" the teacher replied, looking surprised.

"I'd go! I mean, it's one thing to say that he wants you, another thing to actually do something. He made a choice . . . that's - well, that's all you can ask for." I nodded in agreement.

"Definitely go," I said to Mary Margaret. "Trust me, I've seen you two together. It seems pretty much like fate."

"Well . . . given her new friendship with Kathryn, I don't think Regina would be happy."

"All the more reason to do it," Emma replied, taking a bite out of her bear claw.

I grinned. "Amen, darlin'." Emma smiled back.

"Go to your Prince Charming already," I said, winking at Mary Margaret conspiratorially. She and Emma shared a brief look and then burst out laughing, before the teacher rushed from the station, calling over her shoulder, "Thank you!"

I looked at Emma, who was smiling delightedly, and said, "So . . . about the night shift . . ." Her eyebrows scrunched together as she glanced at me and replied with a simple but firm, "Hell no."

Nodding, I took another bite of pastry. "Don't worry, I'm nothing if not persistent."

* * *

 _I glowered at the imp standing before me, my hand resting on the hilt of my sword. "You want me to do what?!"_

 _"Protect him," Rumple repeated, looking both bored by our conversation and delighted in my furious reaction. "Guard him on this quest, and I will give you what you so desire." His voice hushed as he spoke his next words. "Do this, and you might just see her avenged."_

 _My eyes flicked right to his, matching his steady gaze with my fiery glare. If I didn't like Rumple's knowledge of Isadora's condition, I despised his knowledge of Delphine's fate. It was something he always held over me, something worse than his store of information on me: of Izzy's fragile health or my love of chocolate, the town I was born in or my aunt's current whereabouts. No, this was the worst: my desire for vengeance._

 _"Where will I find him?" I asked flatly, not wanting to give in and show how much I hated his hold over me._

 _"Just over that hill," Rumple said, and suddenly there was the piercing shriek of something I was quite familiar with. I glared at the Dark One, who looked very interested in a nearby patch of trees._

 _"A dragon?!" I said furiously, fuming as I knew attacking Rumple wouldn't be advisable._

 _"Yes, a dragon, dearie," he said, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you were familiar with the species." I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming at him and began walking backwards, towards the hill he'd pointed at._

 _"You better keep this damn deal, Rumple," I said angrily, turning around to walk forwards. "Otherwise I'll be taking my vengeance out on you!" I heard him laugh wickedly at that, and I glanced over my shoulder to see that he had vanished._

 _By the time I had made it to the encampment, the prince I was supposed to be protecting had already gone off to slay a dragon. Frustrated, I had stolen one of the royal horses to ride all the way to the mountain. I wasn't sure why the knights were so reluctant to part with their horse, as it seemed to be just like any other horse; but I believed that being beaten to a pulp and tied up with their own rope changed their minds considerably._

 _I rode up after the prince and his little hunting party, who were all probably being roasted alive as I went charging after them. I left the horse a few hundred yards out, running the rest of the way and unsheathing my sword._

 _I reached the dragon's cavern just as two of the men stumbled out, completely burnt to a crisp. "Oh, hell," I muttered as I noticed that the blonde man - the stupid royal I was supposed to be protecting - was standing alone against the dragon, which had crawled its way out of its cave. He ran at it, losing his sword in the process, and I sighed, leaning against a boulder to watch for a moment as he scrambled on the ground, unsure of what to do._

 _Seeing that he was probably about to be killed, I strode over with my drawn sword and yelled, "Hey!" The dragon slowly turned to look at me. I instantly thought of every story I'd heard of dragons as a child: that they stole young maidens and kept them hidden within their caves for the rest of eternity as prisoners. Somehow, I doubted that would be enjoyable._

 _"Come on, then!" I yelled again, shifting my grip on the sword. "Just try and kill me."_

 _It tilted its head, and a sudden stream of fire was erupting from its mouth. I rolled to the side, and sprinted towards the creature; it took a step back, but its size fortunately made it slower. I stabbed upwards with my blade, and it sank hilt-deep into the dragon's shoulder. I pulled on the blade, but it didn't budge: the sword was stuck, wedged between two scales the size of dinner plates. I gave up as it roared and spouted fire again, and I was forced to abandon the sword and duck to avoid being roasted alive._

 _It smacked me aside, and I hit the mountain with a crack that made pain shoot up my back. I winced, shifting on unsteady hands and feet as I tried to get up. Glancing up through a haze of pain, I could see the prince fighting the beast again, waving his own sword at it._

 _I stood, agony lancing through my limbs, and unsheathed a pair of wicked knives. Then, glaring icily at the creature who had hit me, I sprinted forwards and leapt onto the dragon's back. It roared again as I began slashing and stabbing, trying my hardest to get through its scales. I chipped away at the creature's armour, and I didn't even notice the pain in my lower back as I continued on my mission of pure destruction. The dragon spun around, trying to shake me off. I clung to it, slicing into its neck. Soon, the thing stumbled to the ground, too disoriented to get back up._

 _I looked at the prince, who appeared completely surprised. I looked at him furiously and shouted, "Now, you idiot! Kill it!"_

 _He nodded and slashed down with his sword, cutting the dragon's head clean off. I tumbled down off of its back, slowly getting to my feet and noticing the unfortunate amount of reptilian blood I was covered in. Curling my lip in disgust, I attempted to wipe it off of my face, only succeeding in smearing it across my forehead and cheeks. Frustrated, I opted to ignore the bloodstains._

 _The prince was staring at me in utter fascination, and I gave him a cold stare. "I was present, you're still alive. I protected you. I'm done."_

 _I began walking back to where I'd left the horse, and the prince called after me, "Who are you? Can I at least know my saviour's name?!"_

 _I glanced back at him; he seemed like a nice enough guy, if a little on the noble side. Royalty would soon squash that out of him. Sighing, I replied, "Scarlet. Lady Scarlet. And trust me, I'm no one's saviour."_


	7. Losing His Heart or Losing His Mind?

I knocked on the door of Mary Margaret's apartment, hoping I had gotten the address right.

The dark-haired teacher answered, and I followed her inside a combined kitchen and living room where Emma was pouring some orange juice. I waved at her and she smiled back.

"What's up, ki - Lindsey?" she asked, saving herself at the last moment. I chewed the inside of my lip worriedly, thinking carefully before I said anything.

"Um . . . hi. I was just wondering if either of you has seen Graham anywhere?" Immediately, Emma stiffened a bit, and her face looked as if someone had just uttered the nastiest swearword against her and she wasn't sure if she wanted to fight back.

"No," she said slowly. "Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing much, really; I just went by the station a few minutes ago and he wasn't there. I've just never known him to be late, so I thought it was a bit weird."

"Oh," was all Emma said. I glanced between her and Mary Margaret curiously and asked, "Did I miss something?"

"Graham kissed Emma," Mary Margaret blurted out. Then she sighed happily. "It was hell trying to keep that in."

"Wait - what? Graham kissed you?" I asked Emma. Mary Margaret nodded.

Emma shot her a look, which she hid behind her coffee mug from, and then looked at me. "Yeah, he kissed me last night. I didn't see him after that, though. He was drunk - maybe he just slept in or something."

I shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. Nice flowers, by the way," I remarked, gesturing to the colorful contents of the garbage can. Mary Margaret blushed and took a long drink of coffee as Emma pulled the flowers out of the bin, placing them in a vase on the kitchen counter.

"They're from Dr. Whale," Emma explained her roommate's expression of embarrassment. I looked over at the teacher, grinning in spite of myself.

"So, Whale finally came to his senses and didn't act like a total ass?" I asked Mary Margaret, who nodded quietly, still blushing. "She's never done anything like this before, has she?" I asked Emma, who shook her head.

"The flowers are definitely promising," I said, still smiling. "Although a bit odd, considering Whale and a one-night-stand are not things used in the same sentence as 'romantic' or even 'cute'."

"I really shouldn't have called him after," Mary Margaret said thoughtfully, setting down her mug. I raised my eyebrows: did she actually call him? After a one-night-stand? "Oh, sweetie, you really are new at this," I said, smiling sadly at the teacher. She rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, Graham's probably fine," Mary Margaret said, looking at me. I nodded, still uncertain. But I pushed the thoughts away and turned to Emma, asking, "Are you coming into work today?"

"Why?" she asked, confused.

I shrugged. "Well, I mean . . . he kissed you, and you have the whole wall thing going on, so I figured maybe you wouldn't want to see him."

"Hold up - what 'wall thing'?" Emma demanded. Mary Margaret and I shared a quick glance and I gave her a look that said 'you-tell-her-she-probably-won't-hit-you'.

"Emma, you do have a kind of . . . wall, that you put up. And I think it's stopping you from seeing what is so obvious to the rest of us: that you have feelings for Graham." Emma scoffed, but I nodded in agreement.

"Trust me - I've seen enough people in this town fall madly in love, and I know what it looks like by this point. You fancy him, at the very least; care for him, at the very most. Even you can't say you don't care about him."

"But - oh, whatever," Emma said dismissively. "I don't have feelings for Graham."

"Sure you don't," I said, backing out of the apartment. "I'm just going to go and see if he's turned up yet. See you!" I closed the door, walking quickly down the hallway, worry still gnawing at my chest.

* * *

 _I took another sip of the warm concoction the tavern keeper had handed me. I wasn't sure what the hell it was, but it looked a lot like mud and tasted like pure heaven - vanilla-laced heaven. I was sitting in a small tavern on the outskirts of a village whose name I couldn't pronounce, trying to ignore the stares I could feel from the nearby customers._

 _Glancing up, I saw a tall, brunette man in fur pelts take a seat at a nearby table while a barmaid went to hand him a drink. A white-and-gray wolf had followed the man inside the tavern, and was curled up near his feet, munching on the nuts the man had tossed to it._

 _He was a huntsman, and I saw everyone was suddenly watching him more than me. Takes a local threat to wipe away suspicion of a stranger, after all._

 _"They letting animals in here now?" The question came from one of a pair of hunters standing at the bar. "This isn't a slaughterhouse."_

 _"Forget it, he might as well be one, too." The other hunter was joining in, both of them now looking incredibly proud of themselves as they insulted the deadly killing machine that sat five feet from them. "I heard he was raised by 'em."_

 _"He smells like one of them, anyway," said the ginger one._

 _"Pathetic. I heard he cries over his kills!"_

 _I rolled my eyes as the ginger walked over to the huntsman and said snidely, "Tell me, huntsman. What kind of man cries over the death of an animal?" He looked pointedly at the wolf, whose one eye gleamed bright red. I was now wholly invested in the impending fight._

 _"An honourable one," the huntsman said quietly. I tilted my head curiously; for such a rough and frightening person, the man had a voice like honey: sweet, smooth and laced with bitterness._

 _"What do you know about honour?" the hunter continued._

 _"I have it, they have it, you don't," the huntsman replied, and I swallowed back a grin. I was liking this guy more by the minute._

 _They continued to taunt him, and it wasn't until the ginger one leaned down and said, "Do you know what happens to pets that threaten me? I hang them on my wall," that the huntsman moved. But when he did, he moved faster than lightning. He was suddenly standing and the ginger was on the ground, a dagger in his neck._

 _I stood, grinning like a child on Christmas morning when two other hunters attacked him. They fought for a minute and when one of them shoved him against the wall, I joined in. I grabbed the one who'd shoved him by the back of the collar, throwing him to the ground and giving him a good kick in the side. He groaned but rolled slowly to his feet, and I proceeded to unsheathe my knives, which I slid quickly and precisely into his ribcage. He yelled in pain, and I shoved him back to the ground with a hard kick to his abdomen._

 _Turning around, I noticed the hunter throw the huntsman into the wall, and I scowled at him. He was keeping all the fighters to himself, was he? I slashed my daggers down the hunter's back, making him howl in pain, and shoved him head-first into the wall. He crumpled to the floor where he squirmed around, trying to stand. I simply placed my foot on his chest, effectively stopping him._

 _"I didn't ask for your help," the huntsman said angrily, and I turned to look at him._

 _"No, and you didn't need it. But I really needed to hit someone. So thanks." I grinned at him, waving, and walked happily out of the now-silent tavern._

 _At the time, I had had no idea that hundreds of miles away, the Evil Queen sat in her chambers watching all of our fight through a magical mirror, and said, "Both. Bring both of them to me."_

* * *

I was coming out of a long and torturous math class when I spotted him.

"Graham!" I called, surprised to see him around the schools. He was rarely here, unless some student - mostly it had been me - had earned a lecture from the town Sheriff.

"Graham, I was wondering where you were this morning," I said, trying to hide how relieved I was. I'd been tempted to skip all of school that day, but considering Caroline's recent awareness on how often I'd been absent, I hadn't had much of a choice but to attend.

"Sorry, went for a walk," he said, looking dazed. I bit my lip, worry now clouding all of my judgement. "Where are you going?"

"Just to see Henry," he replied quietly; he seemed lost in thought, his eyes distant. My unbearable curiosity stepped in for a moment: Graham was rarely this deep in thought, and he had never been unbelievably close to Henry before.

"Henry Mills? Why?" I asked, unable to stop myself from voicing a few questions. It was an unbreakable hamartia of mine.

"Just need to ask him a few questions about something . . ." he trailed off, and I took a deep breath before grabbing his hand and pulling him over to the police car.

"Alright, but you're driving," I said, opening the driver's side door for him. Without a word, Graham climbed inside and turned the key in the ignition. I hurried to slip into the passenger seat before he could drive off without me.

Ten minutes later, we were sitting on the edge of Henry's bed, while the ten-year-old flipped through his old, leather-bound book. I was as curious as ever, but also kind of confused on why Graham would go to the mayor's adolescent son for advice. That is, until Graham stated his problem. "I'm having these . . . these flashes, like memories. And I don't know what they mean, but I was wondering if you and your book could help me understand them." That was when I knew Graham had completely lost it.

"Seriously? A fairy tale character?" I asked incredulously, as the Sheriff looked at the pages over Henry's shoulder.

Ignoring my exclamation, Henry turned to Graham. "When did your flashes begin?"

"When I kissed Emma, actually," Graham replied.

"You kissed my mom?!" Henry said, looking disgusted. I laughed softly at his reaction, but Graham quickly shushed me. I narrowed my eyes at the man, who met my glare with his own.

"What did you see?" Henry continued.

"A wolf."

"I saw that I had a knife in my hand, and I was with Mary Margaret."

"Were you about to hurt her?" Henry asked, looking as if he already knew the answer. Graham nodded.

"Mary Margaret is Snow White, so you're . . . the Huntsman," he concluded, showing Graham a drawing in the book of a man holding a dagger.

"So, you really think that I could be . . . another person?" Graham asked hesitantly.

"Makes total sense," Henry replied. "You were raised by wolves, and that's why you keep seeing one. It's your friend - it's just trying to help you remember."

"I remember all of this - because I kissed your mother?" The Sheriff looked baffled, and I rolled my eyes impatiently.

"I told you," I whispered. "You don't have a past life." Although, said a tiny voice in the back of my mind, Graham's flashes sound awfully similar to your dreams . . .

"Henry," I said after he and Graham had finished discussing Graham's wolf-guide-stalker situation. "Is there any . . . I mean, am I in your book?" I felt uncomfortable for even saying it, but I needed to know. My dreams were now beginning to sound a lot more disturbing than I'd originally thought.

"Um . . . I don't know," Henry said, looking up at me. "I mean, I don't know who everyone is. You have to be, though. Everyone is in here somewhere."

I nodded silently, barely noticing when Graham pulled me up from the foot of Henry's bed and led me down the Mills' staircase, outside and back to the police car. I climbed into the passenger seat and he sat in the driver's side and, for a moment, we simply sat there in confused and heavy silence.

"It's impossible," I said.

"I know."

"We're going to look for your still-beating heart, aren't we?"

"Absolutely."

* * *

 _I walked into the Queen's chambers, a guard on either side of me and two behind me. I smiled faintly at this level of precaution, and my grin broadened as I spotted the Evil Queen herself, sitting in a velvety chaise lounge._

 _She glanced in my direction for a moment, giving me a brief but thorough once-over, and I noticed the corner of her mouth quirk up a fraction of an inch. She didn't seem disappointed with what she saw._

 _"Lady Scarlet," she said, standing._

 _"Your Majesty," I replied, giving her a mocking curtsey. "Love the dress."_

 _She looked down at the long, form-fitting gown, black lace embroidering her hips and chest, and smiled lightly. "Yes, I do like this one. Although black is still by far my best look."_

 _"Yes - let's leave the reds to me," I said, forcing a smile onto my face. "It is much easier to hide bloodstains in crimson, and with my occupation - well, it is a constant hazard."_

 _Just then more footsteps echoed down the hallway outside the room and the Huntsman stepped through, accompanied by a single guard. He looked angry at his summons - something I had learned to hide with sarcasm until you can't hold it in any longer - and he glared daggers at everyone in the room._

 _"You," he said coldly to me._

 _I smiled and nodded. "You."_

 _We both turned to look at the Queen, who was watching us with a sort of twisted curiosity. She walked towards us, and stared at the Huntsman intently. "You are a tortured one, aren't you? Is this because your parents abandoned you to the wolves?"_

 _I sighed as he replied with a brief 'they-aren't-my-family-the-wolves-are-my-real-family' speech, still glaring. "Honestly, Regina, if I didn't know better, I'd say you just bring me here as an audience. Am I not tortured enough for your liking?"_

 _The Queen looked at me, and I returned her angry stare with a mockingly sweet smile. "Hold your tongue, you degenerative ingrate."_

 _I clutched my chest dramatically, still smiling. "Oh, how your words wound me, your Highness." The Queen rolled her eyes and flicked her wrist, sending me flying back into the wall. I smacked my head on the stone, and pain raced through my skull._

 _"Guards, I have no use of sardonic idiots. Escort Lady Scarlet from the palace grounds. Do not attempt to kill her, as I have lost far too many soldiers to this mercenary already." And with that, my four guards half-dragged and half-carried me out of the Queen's chambers as I blinked white spots out of my vision._

 _They tossed me onto the dirt road just outside the Queen's palace and I rolled forwards for a moment, unable to stop - until I felt someone's foot on my side, pinning me in place. I looked up to see a blurred Rumplestiltskin standing over me, looking amused by my current position._

 _"Hello, dearie," he said, grinning as I scrabbled away from him on the ground._

 _I unsheathed a knife, pointing it at his chest as I said, "What the do you want?"_

 _"Oh, just to let you know why the dear Queen wanted you here in the first place," he said, walking slowly over to stand before me. He held out one greasy, reptilian hand, and after a minute I took it._

 _"How would you know what she wants?" I asked, keeping a safe distance between us._

 _Rumple smirked at my hesitance and whispered, "Still a little wary after our last meeting, I see." He let out a maniacal laugh and I swiped at him with the dagger._

 _"The Queen wants Snow White dead," he explained. "But she cannot kill the girl herself. She needs someone - oh, how did she put it: adept at murder."_

 _"Why didn't she just call you, then?" I asked flatly, and Rumple rolled his eyes melodramatically._

 _"The Queen doesn't trust me like she used to. But that Huntsman on the other hand . . . well, she would definitely be willing to trust him." He looked a little disgusted, and I felt a pang of confusion._

 _"Wait - does she love him?" I asked, feeling a bit disgusted myself._

 _"Love, lust - with her it's typically the same thing," Rumple said dismissively. "But that is not my point, dearie. She wants Snow White dead - dear, lovely Snow. The prize jewel of the kingdom."_

 _"One of the few royals who isn't a pretentious airhead," I added, familiar with Snow White. Dainty, frilly, but not weak. Definitely not weak; I liked that about her._

 _"And the Huntsman is going to kill her," I said. A shudder ran through me. I was no stranger to killing - I was Maeve Scarlet, after all - but I had met Snow White. And I had met the Huntsman._

 _Rumple handed me a piece of parchment, which contained a map of the forest. "They'll be walking this path here," he said, pointing to a blue squiggle that ran through the woods. "In two days' time. I'll leave the rest up to you."_

 _As he turned to walk away I grabbed his shoulder, confused. "Why are you doing this?"_

 _Rumple laughed quietly. "Let's just say . . . I'm invested in that young girl's future."_

 _And with that, the Dark One vanished, leaving me with my scattered thoughts and a map I hadn't meant to take._

* * *

As soon as Graham began to pull away from the curb outside the Mills residence, Emma came driving down the street in her bright yellow Bug.

"Stop," I said, grabbing Graham's hand on the key. "You should tell her."

He glanced at me, his eyebrows drawn together in question, and I quickly elaborated. "Graham, trust me: if you are going on some wild scavenger hunt for the heart you think Regina ripped out of your chest in a past life that's recorded in Henry's book, you should probably tell Emma."

There was a long moment of silence, and I hoped that perhaps my insane point had driven some sense into him. But then he said, "Yeah, I should tell her," and I knew all hope of pulling Graham from his delusion was going to be futile.

He climbed out of the police car and went to talk to Emma; I opted to stay seated, wanting to give them some space. In the rear-view mirror, however, I caught a glimpse of Emma holding her hand over his chest, and placing his hand there, as well. Probably trying to explain to him that according to every scientist in the last several centuries, you need your heart to be inside your body to continue living. He didn't seem to grasp that, though.

Suddenly, they both turned around and stared down the street at something: I quickly craned to see, and felt every muscle in my body freeze. There, standing next to a parked car, was a great white-and-gray wolf, one of its eyes gleaming bright red. It turned and walked calmly into the shrubbery, and I tumbled out of the police car, hurrying to catch up as Graham and Emma ran after it.

"We're chasing a wolf, in Maine, because we think it can lead us to Graham's heart, which is supposed to be locked inside a vault that Regina supposedly brought over to Earth from a past life in which all of us are fairy tale characters," I whispered to myself in disbelief. This was ridiculous. It was also, however, incredibly exciting, so I continued sprinting after the other two-thirds of the Storybrooke police department as they ran after the wolf.

The wolf led us all the way to the Storybrooke cemetery, where everything looked rather creepy as dusk set in. I glanced over my shoulder, trying to shake the feeling of being watched as I caught up to Graham and Emma, who were watching the wolf howl in front of a huge mausoleum.

"It's my friend, it won't hurt us," Graham said reassuringly, and I stared at him while trying to catch my breath.

"Of course it's your friend," I said under my breath. "Of course the wild animal with fangs isn't going to hurt us, because it's supposed to be your spiritual guide from the wilderness. Of course."

Graham ignored me and cautiously approached the wolf, who had stopped howling. It traipsed around the other side of the mausoleum but as we all hurried around the structure after it, we stopped. The wolf was gone.

"Okay, that was weird," I said quietly as Graham stared up at the mausoleum.

"What's up?" Emma asked, as the Sheriff was beginning to look a little mystified as he gazed at the building.

"It's my heart," he said. "It's - it's in there."

"Naturally," I whispered, mostly to myself. "Naturally we have to enter the dollhouse for dead people. It's only rational and not creepy at all."

Soon enough, Emma had kicked down the mausoleum door and Graham led the way inside, me filing in last. I hated mausoleums - sheds built for dead bodies? No, thank you. And walking into one at night, searching for a disembodied heart, after a vanishing wolf led us to the place seemed like the set up for every predictable horror movie I'd ever seen.

Graham began searching the small, cramped room, scouring the shelves with a flashlight. "There's got to be a door or something . . ." he muttered to himself while he looked. Emma and I exchanged a quick glance, but it was enough to establish one thing: we were both incredibly concerned for Graham's current mental stability.

As the Sheriff continued searching for vital organs, Emma held him by his shoulders and whispered, "Graham. Graham, there's nothing in here. It's going to be okay."

Just then a voice shouted, "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

I whirled around, and spotted Regina Mills standing outside the mausoleum. She held a bouquet of flowers in one hand, and looked absolutely furious.

As the three of us walked slowly out of the building, Emma asked the question that had cropped up in my own thoughts. "What are you doing here?"

"Bringing flowers to my father's grave like I do every Wednesday," Regina said, waving her bouquet as if we required evidence - which, honestly, I usually did.

"Your morbidity astounds me," I said. "What happened to just wearing pink?" When this remark was replied with nothing, I glanced around; everyone was looking at me as if I'd just sprouted a second head. "Mean Girls? Anyone? Damn," I muttered. "My jokes have never met such dead silence before."

"Shut up," Regina said angrily.

I shrugged apologetically. "Sorry about that, I make crappy jokes when I panic, and considering that I am now with you, in a cemetery, at night, I feel as though I have the right to panic."

"I said shut up," Regina exclaimed, looking more annoyed than angry now.

"Leave her alone," Graham said, stepping in front of me. "It's my fault. I was looking for something."

"Really?" Miss Mills replied, looking suspicious. "What were you looking for?"

"Nothing. It was, uh - nothing." Regina peered closer at him and said, "You don't look well, dear. Let's get you home." She grabbed his hand and pulled him along behind her, but Graham jerked back.

"I don't want to go home, not with you."

I began backing away, trying to get out of the crossfire as I knew that look in Regina's eyes: she was about to explode, she was so angry, and I wasn't sure I wanted to be in her way when she went on the she mentioned Emma's name, the blonde looked up and said, "This is between you two, Leave me out of it." I half-expected Regina to argue with her, but Graham began speaking: about how he didn't feel anything with her, how he would rather feel nothing at all than be with Regina any longer. I nearly gagged at the thought of them in a relationship. Regina and Graham? No. That would be like Satan dropping by Angel Gabriel's place for tea. Completely ridiculous.

"We're done," he said.

For a long moment no one said anything. Then Regina exploded - all over Emma Swan.

"This is your fault!" she said furiously, storming over to the deputy. Emma began arguing back, and for a moment I was terrified for her. I was familiar with Regina's wrath, and I knew that Emma had no idea what kind of hell she'd just unleashed on herself.

"Why is everyone running from you?" Emma said quietly. Then Regina punched the blonde right across the face.

But I was too distracted by Emma's words to concentrate on what was happening: _Why is everyone running from you? Suddenly, I saw a pair of beautiful blue eyes, glaring into mine as a young girl yelled, What are they running from? You! They're running away from you!_ As fast as the moment had come it was gone; and I was standing beside a mausoleum pillar, watching as Emma punched Regina right across the face. Graham pulled Emma back from the other woman and she said, "You're right, Graham. She's not worth it."

They began to walk off, and I followed them, glancing back over my shoulder: sure enough, Regina Mills was standing in front of the mausoleum, still clutching her bouquet of flowers, her shoulders shaking slightly as if she were - crying? I looked away, embarrassed to have seen her in such a private moment.

* * *

 _Notching an arrow, I carefully darted through the brush of the forest, only a little ways away from the path that Snow White and the Huntsman would soon be walking down. Soon, I saw them: the Huntsman in a guard's armour, and Snow looking as beautiful as ever. Honestly, it was beyond reason how pretty she was. The young princess walked along the path, talking quietly to the disguised killer. Soon she'd stopped and pulled two apples out of her bag. Offering one to the Huntsman, he declined, and Snow took a bite of hers, studying him._

 _"She picked you, didn't she?" I heard her say._

 _Suddenly, she brought a tree branch across his chest, knocking him to the ground and racing away, her cloak billowing out behind her as she sprinted down the forest's path._

 _He ran after her, throwing his helmet to the ground. I chased them both, keeping my arrow in my bowstring as I ran through the undergrowth, wincing at how much noise my footsteps made in the dried greenery below my feet._

 _I found Snow, cornered by the Huntsman, writing a note hurriedly on a piece of parchment. He raised his dagger, but before he could move another inch I fired my arrow. It embedded itself in his shirtsleeve, pinning him to a tree. I sprinted forwards and quickly kicked the dagger out of his hand, sending it skittering across the ground. He growled at me - something I assumed he'd learned from his 'true family' - and said, "What are you doing?!"_

 _"Yes, what are you doing?" Snow asked from behind me. As I turned around as she saw my face, she gasped, covering her mouth with one slender hand. "Oh dear God, it's you."_

 _I rolled my eyes impatiently. "Yeah, it's me: Lady Scarlet, big bad - well, everything. But, as just displayed by my incredible accuracy with this -" I held up my bow "- I am kind of saving your life. So if you don't mind staying out of the way, that would be great."_

 _I turned back to the Huntsman, who glared coldly at me while pulling the arrow out of his sleeve and breaking it in half. I aimed another one at his head, and he dropped the arrow halves to the ground. "What're you going to do? Kill me?"_

 _"No," I replied after a moment of tense silence. "I'm not. I'm here to warn you of something. That there -" I said, gesturing to Snow White, who looked baffled by my actions "- is an innocent girl. And if you're going to believe anyone about killing innocents, believe me: once you take one innocent life, you change. You won't hesitate, you won't even think before taking another. Consider that before you do something irreversible." The Huntsman stared at me, bewildered._

 _I turned to Snow, saying, "Now, I'd love to stay an chat, but I have an imp to yell at, so I'll be going now." As I walked past her, I pulled the second apple out of Snow White's bag. "See you around, Frosty."_

 _The pair watched as I disappeared into the trees, headed for the Dark One's castle. I hadn't been kidding about yelling at an imp._

* * *

Graham had Emma sitting on the edge of the desk at the police station, a first-aid kit open on the desk. I was standing in the corner, thinking, when he said, "Lindsey, shouldn't you be going home?"

"Um . . . yeah, I guess so. Right." I began backing out of the station, tossing him a conspiratorial wink. "I'll just leave you guys to it."

Before either of them could reply, I had ducked out of the police station and was walking home, hoping Caroline would be merciful when I arrived. And she was - a simple goodnight was all I received as she headed back down to the basement. I continued on upstairs, focused on maybe sleeping through the night.

But it wasn't the nightmares that woke me: it was Caroline, at six the next morning, shaking me and telling me that something was wrong.

Something had happened to Graham.


	8. The Fortnight After

Four days. I had been sitting on that couch for four days, too tired and too defeated to move more than an inch or two. Four days of staring at the wall, reliving it again and again and again.

The gauzy black dress that Caroline had picked out for me scratched at my thighs where it sat in my lap, and I had pulled off the little flowers sewn into the neckline. I was curled up in the armchair in our living room, staring blankly at the same space of wall that I'd been watching for the past couple of hours, hugging my legs to my chest, fingernails digging into my calves. I barely noticed the small spikes of pain. But thinking about the scratchy material made me think about the funeral dress, which of course made me think about the funeral.

It'd been a sunny afternoon, which had ticked me off. Graham was dead, and the world was just going on as if it were any other Tuesday: sun shining, birds chirping. It sickened me.

The service was quiet, generic: one of the nuns - Mother Superior - had performed it, saying a brief sermon about life and loss over a casket draped in flowers. I had stared blankly as the casket was lowered into the ground. Stood there, choking back sobs as they buried Graham in still-soft soil. Caroline had walked back to the car with one arm wrapped around my shoulders, a few tears running down my cheeks. We'd driven home in silence, Caroline tapping on the steering wheel nervously. I'd climbed the stairs without a word, kicked off my heels, collapsed on my bed and fallen asleep.

Waking up the next morning, I'd switched to the armchair in the living room, and hadn't moved much for a few days, slipping in and out of restless sleep. Caroline had tentatively asked me if I'd like to eat something, but, for the first two days, I'd declined with a silent shake of the head. I felt sick, and the idea of food sent a wave of nausea through me. After a while, though, I'd managed to swallow some saltine crackers, and after nearly a week, Caroline had convinced me to change into a pair of pyjamas. She had declared me sick with the flu, although I suspected that was to justify my lifeless behaviour to the school and in a way that wouldn't scare her.  
I had not spoken a word since the funeral. At this rate, I was pretty sure my voice would disappear due to lack of use.

After a particularly fitful night of hazy dreams and silent sobs, however, my empty, silent trance was shattered as a sharp knock on the front door echoed through the hallway. I stayed where I was, waiting for Caroline to answer it. The knock sounded again, and I heard my aunt open the door and speak quietly to the knocker. Footsteps followed her into the house, and I shifted my gaze to another spot on the wall, craving a bit of variety. After my eyes had moved I decided that that was enough variety for the day.

Caroline opened the door into the living room and said softly, "Lindsey, darling? There's someone here to see you. You don't mind talking to someone, do you?" She'd been awfully considerate about the whole catatonia situation, and I felt a rush of gratitude towards her. Whatever happened, I knew Caroline had my back; she wouldn't try and force me out of my seclusion. However, the same could not be said for our visitor.

"Miss Welles," said a familiar voice from the doorway. "How've you been?"

For the first time in hours, I moved my head to the side, already aiming an icy glare at the man who leaned in the doorframe, gripping his cane: Mr. Gold.

"No 'hello', then?" he asked, feigning a look of hurt. He walked into the room, taking the seat across from my armchair of isolation. Caroline stood in the doorway, looking worried.

"Have you even spoken in the past twenty-four hours?" he demanded, looking from me to my aunt; I said nothing, but Caroline spoke up, her voice tinged with anxiety. She was afraid of Gold - almost everyone in town was - and under normal circumstances, I might've been disturbed by his visitation to my own home. But at the moment, in my numb seclusion, I wasn't scared of Mr. Gold. I just wanted him to leave.

"Not since the service," Caroline explained, then chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. It was a habit I'd gotten from her.

Gold gave me a brief once-over, scrutinizing every inch of my tattered dress and my unkempt appearance, and made a low sound of disapproval. That was when I snapped.

My gaze turned murderous as I said in the coldest tone I could manage with my scratchy voice, "Get out. Gold, you pathetic, vindictive coward, _get out_." There was a moment of dark silence as the man before me assessed my words. Then he smirked. "No."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off. "I'm sorry to burst your proverbial bubble of sadness, Miss Welles, but there are actual issues to be taken care of at the moment, and you need to have blood circulation in order for those things to happen, do you understand me? Now, get up."

Caroline walked into the room, saying in a shaky voice, "You should leave her alone," when I slowly stood up, glaring furiously at Gold. He stood with me, glaring back, his eyes almost challenging.

"What do you want?" I spat. In the corner, Caroline was watching me with wide eyes: this was the most reaction anyone had gotten out of me since the funeral. I was standing and speaking - because of Gold. I was too caught up in my own anger at the intrusion to really wonder why I had responded to this man and not my aunt.

"You need to accompany me to a short business meeting," he said calmly. "It will benefit not only me, but everyone else in this damned town."

"I have a hard time believing that," I shot back angrily. There was a pause, as I glanced slowly down at my body, felt a greasy lock of hair between my fingers. I heaved a sigh. "Let me take a shower first." Gold smiled smugly as I left the room, and I made sure to quickly flip him the finger before heading upstairs to the bathroom. I missed Caroline's quiet smile.

* * *

Half an hour later, we were knocking on the door of Emma and Mary Margaret's apartment, and I was feeling rather odd without the scratchy material of my funeral dress pressed up next to me. Pinching myself on the wrist, I quickly drove any thought of the funeral from my mind.

Emma opened the door, and stared at us rather awkwardly. "Um . . . hi, Lindsey." I gave her the smallest twitch of my lips in response, but couldn't manage much more than that.

"Hello, Miss Swan," Gold said, exuding the sort of restraint and politeness as he always seemed to around Emma. "I have something I'd like to discuss with you."

She looked back at Mary Margaret, who was unpacking groceries. The teacher peered at the three of us for a long moment before saying, "I'll let you three talk," and disappearing up the stairs.

"Come on in," Emma said, sounding a bit annoyed. Gold and I stepped into the apartment, the businessman following Emma while I took a seat at the table. Even walking from my brownstone next door to the apartment building seemed exhausting.

"I heard about what happened," Gold continued. "Such an injustice." My eyebrows drew together in confusion: what the hell was Gold talking about?

"Yeah, well, what's done is done," Emma replied heavily, putting down the knife she'd been holding. I glanced over to the kitchen counter where a ruined toaster sat.

"Spoken like a true fighter," Gold remarked sarcastically.

"I don't know what chance I have," she said in frustration, bracing her hands on her hips. "She's the mayor and I'm, well . . . me." A tiny flicker of curiosity sparked in the back of my mind, but was quickly extinguished when Graham's voice echoed through my memory: _curiosity killed the cat, Lindsey. Be careful._ I pinched my wrist again.

"Miss Swan, two people with a common goal can accomplish many things. Two people with a common enemy . . . can accomplish even more."

To hell with any sad memories, I thought. The tiny spark had relit the flame of my obsessive curiosity again, and for the first time in days I spoke by choice when I said, "Okay, is someone going to tell me what you're talking about?" My voice was still rough, and I sounded like I had a wicked headcold, but the shower and yelling at Gold had done a bit of good for my vocal chords.

Emma looked over at me and said, "It's been two weeks. Sheriff's position is legally mine now. But Regina just put Sidney Glass in as Sheriff, and fired me." At these last words, I could have sworn steam was coming out of her nose. But I was too distracted by what she'd said before that. Two weeks? It'd been two weeks since Graham's death? I'd thought it was only days. Caroline had put up with me ghosting about the house for a fortnight? Another rush of gratitude for my aunt appeared, and I made a mental note to thank her every day for at least the next decade.

"Anyhow, Miss Swan . . . how would you like a benefactor?" Gold asked, looking more and more like the scheming evil-doer that everyone thought him to be. He had a glint in his eyes that made you either want to run in the opposite direction or keep talking to him. Just being around that expression of his made you feel a little bit stronger, or cleverer, or more powerful.

They sat down at the table with me, and Mr Gold opened the thick binder he'd carried over with him. "You know, it's astonishing how many people neglect to read the town charter."

I rolled my eyes, the action feeling like instinct. "Really? 'Cause that's next on my reading list." My words sounded like me, I noticed, but the tone was still hollow, and lacked conviction.

Gold ignored me and looked at Emma. "It's quite eye-opening, really - and the mayor's authority . . . Well, she may not be as powerful as she seems."

* * *

On the walk back to my house, I stopped Gold before he could pass by the small brownstone building. "Wait. Why did you want me to come tonight?"

Gold turned around, studying my expression as if it were the most fascinating science experiment in the laboratory. "She trusts you, Miss Welles. Not me. And I'm going to need to use that if we are to keep Regina from regaining control of the police."

As he moved to walk away I added, "Why do you care so much about that?"

There was a moment's silence before Gold answered. "I don't. Motives are not always what they appear to be, Miss Welles. You would do well to remember that." And with those odd words, he walked down the street and I shivered in the cold autumn air, reluctant to go back inside.

* * *

 _Daggers twirl in my fingers, flashing sunlight off of their wickedly sharp edges as they spin in my grip. I throw one with the kind of accuracy that only comes from years of practice, and the blade buries itself hilt-deep in the oncoming soldier's chest. I pitch the second one forward, and it does the same to the second attacker. I spin around to face a third, drawing a short sword from its sheathe, and slash it across his stomach. The man stumbles, clutching his abdomen, and I give him a hard kick to the side that sends him tumbling down to the ground._

 _When I whirl around, however, I am suddenly standing in an empty courtyard, a single, forlorn fountain spouting water in a futile attempt to break the heavy silence of the space. The last rays of twilight are fading, and I am waiting for someone. Worry gnaws at my chest, but melts away as I hear soft footsteps behind me. Turning, I can see him: he is running now, towards me. Sweeping me into his arms, all I can see are brown eyes and the flash of a warm smile in the dim light._

 _Then I am curled up on a cold stone floor, chains wrapped tightly around my wrists and feet. A boy stands in front of me, his expression colder than the drafty chamber. "Let me go!" I plead from my spot on the floor; every inch of me aches, as if I've been beaten. Dirt and blood cake my hair and hands, and I can feel tear-tracks tracing down my cheeks. "Let me go - please." I choke out the last word, which is painful and leaves an ashen taste in my mouth._

Then Caroline was shaking me awake, looking worried. I was back in my bed at last, which had obviously relieved her upon my return from Emma and Mary Margaret's apartment - as did my voice, which was returned with me. But the nightmares persisted.

* * *

"You sure you want to come with me?" Emma asked me as she pulled over. We were sitting in her Bug, which I was slowly growing fond of, and parked just outside the mayoral offices.

I nodded, feeling my lips twitch into a small smile. The action still felt a bit foreign, but it felt good. "Oh, I'm definitely sure. Any chance to piss Regina Mills off isn't something I'll pass up."

"She could, you know, rain hell down on you for helping me," the blonde said, although even she sounded a bit skeptical at this idea.

I rolled my eyes - something else I hadn't done in a while. "Whatever. I think I can handle a bit of hell. Practice for when I actually go." Emma grinned at me, and we got out of the car, striding purposefully up the front steps and entering the building. I felt a twinge of satisfaction: I had made Emma smile. I seemed normal. I still felt empty somehow, like someone had reached into my chest and scooped out some of my insides; but I was getting better at faking normalcy. I had practiced rolling my eyes and quick, sarcastic remarks for nearly two hours before going out with Emma that morning.

"Sidney Glass, your new Sheriff," I heard Regina say as we walked into the room.

"Hang on a second," Emma said loudly from the back, with me following a bit behind her, a bit awed by how nice the mayoral offices were. I'd never been inside - except once, at night, when I'd been on a bit of a breaking-and-entering kick - and everything seemed incredibly grand compared to what I would've pictured an office building to look like.

"Oh, Miss Swan, this is not appropriate," Regina said disdainfully. "And Miss Welles." I tossed the mayor a smirk and a small wave (something else I'd practiced). Everyone had turned to gape at us as we walked up the center of the room, towards Regina and Sidney.

"The only thing inappropriate is this ceremony," Emma replied flatly. I nodded, glaring at Regina.

"You don't have the power to make Sidney Sheriff."

"The town charter clearly states that the mayor may appoint -"

"A candidate," Emma finished. "You can appoint a candidate."

"The term candidate is applied loosely," Regina fired back.

"No, it's not," I said. "Trust me - we received an hour-long lecture about this less than twenty-four hours ago. We know what we're talking about."

Regina shot me a withering glare and turned back to face Emma, who said, "It calls for an election. And I'm running."

"So is Sidney," Regina said. Sidney glanced up at the mention of his name and said, "I am?" which turned to a firmer "I am," after a look from mayor Mills. I suppressed a snort of derision at the man's uncanny ability to play puppet with his master.

"I guess we'll see a little more about the thoughts of the people," Regina said, smiling coldly, trying to turn this incident around in her favour in front of the reporters.

"I guess we will," Emma replied.

As we walked back out, I waved at the pair over my shoulder saying, "See you, Miss Mills, Miss Mills' pet!" I was a bit disappointed neither of them had the guts to throw something at me while I left - preparing that line wasn't worth as much if no one was going to reply.

* * *

It took Sidney Glass - with Regina pulling the strings, of course - no more than forty-eight hours to publish a smear campaign against Emma Swan. I was staring at the newspaper in disgust, the title 'Ex-Jailbird' printed in huge bold letters across the top.

"You okay, Lindsey? You look like you're going to - oh," Ruby said, peering over my shoulder at the headline. She had been hovering more than usual the past day or so, surprised and delighted by my sudden willingness to be among the rest of the world.

"It's okay, really. You guys could still win this." I can hear the silent 'maybe' at the end of her brief consolation, and I heaved a sigh as I swiped my finger across the top of my hot chocolate, licking off the whipped cream.

"I don't know if I hate his guts or if I'm proud that he has the guts to do this," I said quietly, still staring at the paper. "But I'm probably gonna go with the first option."

Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed Henry sitting by himself in a booth, also reading the newspaper and looking a bit crestfallen. I looked at Ruby, who shrugged, and set down my paper. "I'll be back later," I said, picking up my hot chocolate and walking over to Henry. Sitting down across from him, the kid glanced up at looked at me with a solemn expression. I sighed, splaying my fingers across the headline to obscure the words and said, "Henry, you know Sidney's just playing the bad guy to get Emma fired, right? She's not a bad person." This I was certain of. In fact, I didn't care at all that his mother had gone to prison - if anything, it simply explained her guarded behaviour - but I knew that everyone else would view her a little more shrewdly. It was ridiculous, but there it was.

"I know," Henry said quietly, and I sighed again, this time out of frustration at Regina. This was the kid she was always claiming to protect, and here she was, posting a campaign against his birth mother in order to ruin her chances of keeping a job in town. Sometimes, I liked to consider Regina Mills a complicated woman who does things out of fear, as Archie Hopper often suggested. This was not one of those times.

Emma walked into the diner, spotted Henry and I sitting together and slid into the seat beside her son. She glanced at him staring at the newspaper, remarked on it, and Henry flipped the Daily Mirror over to show her the headline. Emma took the newspaper, clutching it tightly, and I could see the trace of alarm in her expression as she read the title.

"Is it a lie?" Henry asked her.

"No," Emma said, just as quietly. I felt a bit uncomfortable, as if intruding on something, and moved to get up; but Emma shook her head, giving me a look that said 'don't bother'.

"I was born in jail?" Henry asked, slightly louder. I couldn't tell if the kid was upset or not; it just sounded as if he desperately needed confirmation from Emma herself.

"Yeah," she replied. Henry said nothing. She looked at him for a moment before saying, "Please tell me you're not scarred for life." I laughed softly as Henry replied. "No - not by this anyway."

"Good. Then we will just have to get our news from somewhere more reliable. Like . . . the internet."

I grinned at the blonde. "Wikipedia's always helpful, and not nearly as unreliable as people seem to think."

Emma winked at me, a silent thank you for not asking anything. Henry spoke up then, saying, "This is why good never wins - because good doesn't do this kind of thing. You can't beat my mom; she's evil, and evil fights dirty." I thought maybe the kid had a point. "I have an ally now," Emma said. I coughed discreetly, and she amended the statement. "Okay, two allies. Lindsey and Mr Gold."

Henry looked mildly horrified by this announcement. "Mr Gold? He's even worse."

I shrugged, taking a sip of my hot chocolate. "I can't argue with that logic." When Emma shot me a questioning glance, I elaborated. "Trust me, Emma. As bad as Regina is - and yeah, she's kind of horrible - Gold is way worse. Metaphorically speaking, Regina is the common cold to his chicken pox: mildly annoying, but doesn't leave you with nearly as many scars." The blonde raised her eyebrows at this statement.

"Okay, Confucious."

"You already owe him one favour," Henry added. "You don't want to owe him anymore. Don't do this."

"You saw what happened with Ashley's deal," I said. "He's like that with everyone."

"Whose side are you on?" Emma asked me incredulously. "You think I shouldn't go to Gold for help on this one?"

"God, no - by all means, get his help. We'll need it if we want to make you Sheriff again. But be careful when you're dealing with him, Emma. I know I sound way oversuspicious -"

"You are oversuspicious. It's your most consistent quality," Ruby remarked as she passed our table, smiling wickedly at me. I stuck my tongue out at her.

"But he really is dangerous."

Emma looked between me and Henry for a long moment before standing up, saying, "I think I'll go talk to that common cold before enlisting any chicken pox. Come on, Henry, I'll take you home." I grinned at her and stood myself, walking back to the counter where Ruby stood, waiting with a huge smile.

"What's with you?" I asked as I pushed myself up onto a barstool.

Ruby kept grinning. "Are you free next Saturday? Because I was thinking . . . I mean, I'm going out with Billy, and he has this friend who -"

"Ruby?"

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely not."

* * *

 _I am standing in a dark room, damp and drafty. My hands and feet are chained to the wall behind me, and I struggle against my bonds furiously. Footsteps soon approach me, and something rakes along my cheek, pain exploding across my face. I open my mouth to scream, but as soon as it has come the pain is gone._

 _My hands and feet are free of chains, and I am standing near the back of a crowded ballroom. I shift uncomfortably in my dress, and glare in the direction of a blonde girl in a grand white gown, as though this discomfort is her fault. A voice in the back of my mind whispers "Not yet, dearie."_

 _Then I am sprinting down a dirt path in the woods: but these are not ominous or frightening woods at all. They are bright with color, golden sunlight filtering down through the leaves overhead. A warm breeze brushes through my hair, tickling my shoulders. I am running alongside someone else: a young boy with a shock of blonde hair, and he is laughing right back at me as we sprint together, down this dirt path in the not-scary forest with the soft breezes, and it feels weirdly like home._

 _That image is ripped away, however, and replaced with another: I am wielding a pair of knives and standing before a tall, cloaked man with golden yellow eyes. He growls, a low animal sound, and lunges forward, shifting into a huge wolf in midair as he pounces at me. I raise my daggers up towards his throat and then there is blood rushing everywhere -_

And I sat up in bed, breathing heavily, my hands scrabbling all over my shoulders and arms and chest, trying to scrub away bloodstains that didn't exist. It took almost ten minutes that time, but I calmed my breathing and stood, picking up my notebook and opening it to a fresh page, where I documented the most recent nightmare in shaky handwriting. I used three pages before finally getting it right; by then, it was nearly three in the morning. Crawling back into bed, I shivered underneath my covers, trying to sleep with the chill that had settled deep under my skin.

* * *

Caroline woke me up the next morning at nearly six, shaking me and saying, "Lindsey, you're friends are here! They need your help with Emma Swan's campaign posters today."

I groaned quietly into my pillow and rolled out of bed, rubbing the sides of my head where I could already feel a headache coming on. Caroline flashed me a quick grin and hurried from the room, probably to ask anybody if they wanted any tea or coffee. That was my aunt: always excited when I had friends over, even if most of my 'friends' were a decade older than me. I pulled on some clothes that I scavenged from my laundry bin and stared into the mirror for a long moment, trapped by the image of my hollow eyes. Then I took a deep breath and began dabbing concealer on my vivid dark circles.

I took the stairs two at a time, hurrying down to the living room where Mary Margaret, Archie and Ruby sat on chairs, Caroline chatting happily with them. The teacher was warm, Archie was as polite as ever, and Ruby shot me the same half-smile that she always did when around Caroline: the smile that said 'your-aunt-is-annoying-yet-adorable'. Caroline was like a constantly mewing kitten.

She smiled brightly at me as I walked into the room, then pursed her lips at my choice of clothes. I glanced down at my outfit: faded black jeans I'd had forever and an old band t shirt. It was probably the shirt - Caroline, as accepting as she was, still had trouble with some of my playlists. I shrugged at her in a 'what-can-you-do?' sort of way, and she left the room with a resigned sigh. The trio stood, smiling at me, and I raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "Why do I get the feeling that you three are thinking something and are now trying to communicate with me telepathically because you don't want to say it aloud?"

"Because that's exactly what we're doing," Ruby said, grinning at me. "I'll say it: Caroline. Can I keep her?"

I rolled my eyes as Mary Margaret and Archie laughed, and then the teacher went right down to business. "Okay, we have the posters of the fire photos printed up, and there are at least twelve blocks of town we can put them up in, and six of us. Teams, then. Ruby, you and Granny will go together. Archie and Marco - and Pongo. Lindsey, you're with me."

"Hold up - fire? What fire?" I demanded, looking from one person to the next for an explanation.

"The fire at the mayor's office last night," Ruby said, looking baffled that I didn't knew what they were talking about. "I keep forgetting you weren't there - it just seems right up your alley. Emma pulled Regina out, saved her life. We got a picture of Emma rescuing the mayor, and made campaign posters. And . . . yep, that's everything."

My eyes were wide with surprise, and I gaped at the trio. "Fire? Damn, I feel out of the loop. You sleep for one night . . . although a fire? Was it an accident or arson? Has anything been moved yet? God, I hope no one moved anything yet . . ." I was soon muttering under my breath, thinking aloud, my mind racing.

"You shouldn't have told her everything," Mary Margaret chided Ruby quietly. "I knew she'd get like this, all . . . you know, um -"

"Fixated?" Ruby suggested with a laugh. I just stuck my tongue out at her, and she did the same to me. "It's Lindsey, she would've found out eventually. You can go look at the crime scene later, dork. Until then, posters." The brunette handed me a stack of papers, and Mary Margaret looped her arm through mine, guiding me towards the front door with a bright smile.

"Lindsey, sweetie, stop thinking about it," she said to me ten minutes later, as we rounded the corner to our second block of poster-posting.

"I can't," I said in frustration. "Was it arson? Has anyone said anything yet? It was probably arson. Of course, who would want to set fire to Regina's office? Never mind, that list is way too long . . ."

"You're muttering again," Mary Margaret remarked offhandedly. "Pass me the staple gun?" I passed her the tool, still thinking.

"I must know," I said melodramatically, and the teacher laughed. Her grin evaporated, however, when she saw David Nolan coming over to our poster board. I glanced at her, then at David, and figured this wasn't a good time to bring up 'the Nolan Trap' theory.

"David," she said, a little breathlessly, her smile as false as Ruby's extensions. I pressed my lips together to keep from saying anything - or rather, from releasing my inner hell-spawn on the man who had screwed with her head.

"Mary Margaret," he replied, also a bit too friendly. He looked at me, saying, "Lindsey."

"Nolan," I said flatly. For a moment there was uncomfortable silence, until my partner decided to say something along the lines of 'how's life?' instead of what she really wanted to say, which was more like 'why did you leave me for your potential-stalker of a wife?'

"Good, good," David said, looking a bit awkward. "I, uh, I got a job. Yeah, it's at the animal shelter."

"That's great," Mary Margaret said. When David glanced at me, I simply nodded, a gesture that I didn't like all too much. Agreeing with him felt wrong.

"Sidney Glass," the teacher remarked, glancing at the poster. I raised a questioning eyebrow at Mr Nolan - even if he had messed with Mary Margaret, I didn't think he would want someone like Regina Mills pulling the strings at the police department.

"Yeah, my wife's friends with the mayor, so . . ." I pinched my wrist to keep from wringing his neck. Yes, David, let's bring up Kathryn Nolan, the woman who you chose over Mary Margaret, who happens to be standing right freaking here! It took all of my willpower not to yell at him; however I narrowed my eyes and gave him the most furious look I could manage without letting Mary Margaret notice. He winced a bit under my gaze.

"Right, yeah . . . how is, um, Kathryn?" It sounded painful for the teacher to say the name, but she managed through it and I felt a moment of pride on Mary Margaret's behalf. Here she was, in love with a guy she could never have, and managing small talk about his wife.

"She's, uh - she's great," David said, looking a bit taken aback.

"Awesome," I said, throwing as much sarcasm as I possibly could into the one word. "But we are out of posters," I added, discreetly tucking the few posters underneath the back of my jacket. "So we are going to have to get some more. Until next time - you tactless idiot," I added under my breath, although I was farily certain that David had heard me, if the pink tinge in his face was any indicator. Mary Margaret looked as if she might protest my last sentence but, sensing her way out, she walked with me as I hurried away from the bulletin board.

"Thank you," Mary Margaret whispered as soon as we were out of earshot. "Except that bit at the end. 'Tactless idiot'? Really?"

"Are you really defending him?" I replied skeptically, and there was a pause as the teacher sighed and said, "Good lord, I hope not." I laughed at that.

"So, how do you think Emma'll do at the debate this afternoon?" Mary Margaret asked conversationally, as if trying to smooth over the awkwardness of the previous conversation.

I stopped in my tracks. "Oh, hell. What debate?"

* * *

"You'll do great, Emma."

"Yeah, it'll be fine."

"If you screw up, just try to make it seem funny. People like funny."

"Lindsey!" Mary Margaret swatted my arm as Ruby coughed to disguise a laugh, but winked at me conspiratorially. I winked back, grinning.

"It's time," Archie said, looking at Emma. I'd never seen her look nervous before: now, she was definitely nervous. Maybe even terrified. She and Mary Margaret had had a small talk before anyone else arrived to wish her luck, and now I was a bit worried she might back out of the debate, she looked so scared. But as we all took our seats and the curtains drew back, Emma was still sitting there, watching the crowd of people. Our little group waved at her, as did Henry near the front - until Regina shook her head at her son. I rolled my eyes.

"Let the fun begin," I muttered to myself as Archie began with a joke that no one laughed at.

"Now, our first candidate, Sidney Glass," the man said, looking relieved to hand over the attention to someone else. Sidney stepped up to the podium, looking sure of himself, and smiled. But it wasn't friendly: it wasn't anything at all. It was the smile of someone who's been told to smile by their master, and I couldn't help but glance at Regina as he stood there for that moment.

"I will reflect the best qualities of Storybrooke if elected: honesty, neighbourliness, and strength." He sat back down to applause.

Glass? Reflect? Was he seriously opening with a pun? I almost felt a degree of respect for him in that moment.

Emma approached the podium reluctantly and said, "You all know that I have what's called a troubled past. But you've all been able to look over that because of the whole 'hero' thing." My lips quirked up in a smirk, proud of her sarcasm. "But here's the thing: the fire was a setup." My smirk vanished. What the hell was she doing? "Mr Gold agreed to help me, but I didn't know that that meant he was going to set a fire." People were whispering all over the room now.

"And I can't win that way," Emma finished, and sat back down.

At the same time, with the eye of everyone in the room trained on him, Mr Gold stood up and walked back out of the auditorium, gripping his cane tightly. After a long moment of more whispering, I turned to Mary Margaret.

"I told you it was arson."

* * *

I sat in Granny's a few hours later, Emma and Henry on my right, Mary Margaret and Archie on my left, with Ruby standing behind the counter in front of me. Surrounded by friends. Surrounded by people I cared about, some of whom cared about me. All in all, not bad company.

Finishing my victory hot chocolate, as Emma had won the election by much more than Mayor Mills was willing to admit, I watched as the new Sheriff and her son talked in hushed tones about Henry's book and something they called 'Operation Cobra'. Still wasn't sure what that was, but it sounded both interesting and incredibly suspicious, which piqued my curiosity. I made a mental note to ask the kid about it later. Ruby slid a cup of tea towards me and I took it gratefully, pressing my hand against my forehead, which pounded from a headache. I was certain that I was coming down with something. Although I would probably be eternally grateful to any illness that could get me out of a date with Ruby's newest target.

"Look, just meet him, talk a bit, maybe get coffee or something," she said, then a delighted look came over her face and I felt a flicker of worry.

"Oh, God, I know that look. That's your 'I-just-had-an-epiphany-to-make-Lindsey's-blind-dates-even-more-awful' look. What is it?" Ruby just gave me a wicked grin and shook her head, vowing herself to silence.

"You'll just have to wait and see. How about next Saturday, then?" I sighed heavily, but she persisted, giving me puppy eyes and pressing her hands together as if in prayer. "Please, Lindsey, please, please, please! Just one - meeting. Doesn't even have to be a date."

Upon hearing our conversation, Mary Margaret laughed, whispering in my ear, "Just say yes. It could be fun, Lindsey. You never know." I glanced at her, highly doubting the truth in her words, but finally relented under Ruby's puppy eyes.

"Fine!" I said, throwing up my hands in mock surrender. "You know what, fine! I'll go on a meeting with him - coffee, here at Granny's. We will talk, we will drink coffee or tea or whatever, and that will be the end of that, alright?"

"Yes!" Ruby exclaimed happily, throwing her arms around me over the counter. I quickly shifted my tea out of her way. "Yes, yes, yes! Thank you, Linds. I swear, this will not be like the last one!" She winked, and I groaned and put my head down on the counter, thinking about the last blind date Ruby Lucas had set me up on.

"Oh, good God, what've I done?" I mumbled into my hands.

* * *

 **AN: Hi, friends. Hopefully the rewrite is going well so far (only being 8 chapters in and all). I haven't had to change much so far, but there might be a major plot change in the next chapter, and before the end of season one there's going to be a ton of writing changes and such. And also, to the guest who reviewed on the original story's page: thank you for the explanation of why that kind of language is deemed inappropriate. I'm sorry, by the way, if I came off as though defending my use of it; I just wasn't sure why it was inappropriate, and fully intended to respect that it wasn't to be used, explanation or not. But thank you. :) And thank you for your face claim suggestions as well. Lots of love xx**


	9. Memory Lane

_I sat in Regina's carriage, directly across from the Evil Queen herself. We were traveling down a road through the woods - the ones she considered her own - and I was trying my hardest not to commit murder. So far, so good._

 _Regina was watching me with something akin to curiosity, absently tapping the side of her chin as she studied me. I hated being confined to such close quarters; after spending several weeks in her dungeon once before, this was torture. Of course she probably knew that, and I shifted restlessly in my seat under her scrutinizing gaze._

 _"How are you, Lady Scarlet?" she asked me, although the word 'Lady' seemed to leave a sour taste in her mouth. Regina had always been uncomfortable about my age: someone who appeared barely seventeen shouldn't be an infamous mercenary in her opinion. Although she would probably be much more understanding if she knew my real age . . . I pushed the thought aside. No one needed to know about that._

 _"Fine," I said stiffly, glaring at the Queen. "Do you mind explaining to me where we're going?" As I spoke, my hand flitted to the hilt of my sheathed dagger, my fingers fluttering over the worn leather in an unspoken threat._

 _"Just a jaunt through the forest is all," she said, trying to sound pleasant; then Regina leaned a bit closer, her dark eyes alight with malice. "I was recently told of how close you were to the woods, growing up. Thought this might bring back . . . old memories." She seemed incredibly proud of her knowledge, as if this information had been difficult to obtain. In fact, it probably had; I despised people's knowledge of my past._

 _"Right." I glared at her for a bit longer before slowly moving my hand from my knife, and Regina seemed to relax just a tiny bit. I suppressed a smirk: I was making her nervous? Brilliant._

 _Regina sat abruptly upright, looking shocked by something. But her expression of surprise quickly morphed into that of delight as she ordered for the carriage to stop. I could hear the soldiers moving outside, and scuffling feet. Regina threw open the carriage door and leaned out, peering out onto the road._

 _"And what are you doing in my forest?"_

* * *

Sitting in Granny's, my chin resting in my hands, I was only half-listening to Ruby, who was describing her recent date with Billy, who she actually seemed to be getting a tad serious with. I was happy for her, really - but there's only so many times I could listen to her talk about how polite or cute or a good kisser he was. I actually felt a bit awkward towards Billy now, who I barely knew.

I clicked on my phone and quickly sent Emma a text: 'Anything happening?' It took her a few minutes to reply, but when she did I sat bolt upright in my seat, staring delightedly down at the screen.

"Sorry, Ruby, but I've got to go," I said, unable to wipe the grin off of my face. I threw on my coat as Ruby called after me. "Don't forget about this Saturday!"

I reached the street Emma had stated only a few minutes of sprinting later, and hurried to where I could see the Storybrooke police car parked outside a gray-stucco house. Two kids got out of the backseat - a blonde girl and brunette boy - and walked to the front door. The girl waved at the police car, which took off down the block. "Really, Emma?" I muttered in annoyance, running to catch up.

But a few minutes later, the car had returned, Emma looking worried from the driver's seat. I jogged up to the window and tapped on the glass; the blonde rolled it down. "Afternoon, Miss Swan."

She smiled at me and climbed out of the car. I was still a little breathless from all the damn running, but listened intently as possible while she explained. "So I'm going inside to check. Wanna help?"

I grinned. "Emma Swan, clearly you haven't read my file. I'll have the lock picked in less than a minute." She nodded and we walked up to the front door, where I pulled a hairpin from my jeans pocket and stuck it inside the keyhole.

"How often do you do this?" The Sheriff sounded a bit concerned as I moved the pin around carefully.

I shrugged. "Like I said, it's all in the file. Graham had quite extensive records." At the mention of his name I blanched a little bit, and bit my lip, hard. Then I heard the tumblers click and the front door swung open at my touch. "Got it."

We strode inside, carefully not to make much noise. I glanced at Emma, who looked completely at ease sneaking into other peoples' houses. "So, how do you know that the kid was lying?"

"I just do. It's kind of like my superpower." I laughed softly; superpowers. I was beginning to see where Henry got some of his imagination from. "I'm serious, Lindsey. I can tell when someone's lying."

I raised my eyebrows questioningly. "Alright, then - try me. I have every intention of going on the blind date that Ruby's set up for me this Saturday." I knew this was true - after all, she'd gotten so excited after I agreed - but Emma probably wouldn't think so.

"True," Emma said simply. I was rightfully impressed. "Not bad, Sheriff Swan."

Just then, the pair of kids from earlier were walking around the corner when Emma said, "Now why did you two lie to me?"

* * *

"Ava and Nicholas Zimmer," Emma whispered to Mary Margaret and I, reading from a thick binder. "Their mother was Dory Zimmer - she died a few years ago."

"And a father?" I asked, also whispering. The twins themselves were sitting a mere ten feet away, at the dining table in Mary Margaret and Emma's apartment with bowls of mac-and-cheese.

"There isn't one - that they know of," Emma explained. I chewed on the inside of my lip, trying to hide how freaked out I really was. There were two twelve-year-olds, living on their own in an abandoned house, whose mother had died, and no one had even noticed? Looking at Ava, who seemed like the responsible one of the pair, I understood why she seemed so much older than she really was.

"What did social services say?" Mary Margaret asked. Emma looked at her, half guiltily and half defiantly. "You didn't report them."

"I report them, I can't help them," the blonde replied. I suppressed a sigh; this was not going to be easy. I was about as likely as Emma to report the twins to social services - after being involved in police work so much and seeing our mayoral system, I had never had much faith in any kind of government - but I still felt as though we needed to do something. Having no idea what that something was, however, put me at a distinct disadvantage to argue my point.

I walked over to the twins, who had been almost entirely silent except for 'pleases' and 'thank-you's'. They seemed like decent kids, actually. I took a seat across from Nicholas and next to Ava, who both stared at me in surprise.

"Um . . . hi." I began the conversation so awkwardly, I winced internally at myself.

"Hi," Ava said quietly, and her brother nodded at me.

There was another minute of silence, in which Emma and Mary Margaret's hushed debate grew ever louder. Ava had taken notice and was watching them; before I could do anything, she was up and walking over to the women, standing behind Emma. Her hands shook.

"You're going to separate us?" The girl looked heartbroken by this news, and I felt the sudden weight of guilt in my chest as I saw her brother's saddened expression as well.

"No," Emma said firmly, looking Ava in the eye. "I'm going to do everything I can to make sure that that doesn't happen, alright?"

A leaden feeling entered my stomach, and I knew then that Emma's promise wasn't something we could guarantee. It was the biggest lie I'd ever heard her say.

* * *

 _"We didn't mean to trespass," the small blonde girl pleaded. "Please - we just lost our father."_

 _"You hear that, Lady Scarlet?" Regina seemed to be enjoying this for too much for my liking. "A pair of orphans, lost and alone. A family torn asunder. How touching." I simply nodded, disgust threatening to show in my expression as I watched the Queen with the children._

 _"Guards - seize them!" Regina suddenly ordered, and the girl yelled, "Hansel, run!" The boy sprinted away and the girl stood where she was, using a sling to send a stone into the nearest guard's face. Then she ran, too, and I couldn't help but be impressed by her bravery._

 _"Regina," I said, my mind racing desperately as I tried to think of a way to talk the Evil Queen down from murder. "Perhaps they could be useful. After all, the girl at least is brave enough to take on one of your own soldiers."_

 _There was a moment of silence in which I felt a flash of panic, unable to see the Queen's face with her back facing me. Turning slowly, Regina stared at me in bewilderment; then a wicked grin stretched across her face and she vanished into thin air, taking me with her. As we touched down to the ground thirty feet from the carriage, in front of the two children, I tried to hide my queasiness. I despised teleporting, mostly because of how sick it made me. Rumplestiltskin was aware of this, but I didn't care with that man anymore: I'd given up hiding things from him long ago. But the fact that Regina knew irked me to no end, especially when she shot a smug smirk my way while I tried to keep from throwing up._

 _"You are brave," she was saying to the girl in her usual haughty manner. That was another thing that frustrated me about Regina: her superiority complex. "If you do one task for me, I will help you find your father."_

 _The girl, who was probably contemplating attacking the Queen herself to escape, froze, staring up at the pair of us with wide, shocked eyes. Her brother - Hansel, she'd called him - was watching us as well, although he didn't seem to grasp the gravity of the situation quite as much as his sister did._

 _"Deal," the girl said, holding her hand out to shake Regina's. When the Queen simply looked as if the girl were attempting to hand her a dead cat, I shook the girl's hand and winked at her._

 _"Good luck, kid." I glanced over at Regina, who was looking at me with an expression close to fury, and flashed her a mockingly sweet smile before saying, "Another time, your Highness." I stalked back to the carriage to retrieve the sword I'd left there, and on my way out I stopped the soldier who had grabbed the children._

 _"Excuse me," I said, looking him dead in the eye. I didn't care that Regina probably wouldn't agree with my actions; I just shoved off his helmet, revealing small hazel eyes and a scattering of freckles, and punched him in the face. Then I walked away, sheathing my sword and feeling quite satisfied with the ending of Regina's 'jaunt through the woods'._

* * *

Emma had needed information; I could provide. Feeling incredibly useful, I led the Sheriff into the public records building on Main street, walking straight into the back.

"What's up?" I asked the man behind the counter, who simply sighed exhaustedly at the very sight of me. My eyebrows drew together in confusion: I thought K liked me? Or was at least vaguely amused by me.

"We need to check out files on a few kids in town," I explained, while Emma stood at the back of the room. She was trying to read the nameplate on the counter, and K sighed again. He didn't seem to be in a great mood. "Everyone calls him K," I explained to Emma over my shoulder. She nodded absently.

"Naturally you know the nickname of the guy who keeps public records," she said quietly, looking exasperated. "Of course." I grinned at her and turned back to K.

"Ava and Nicholas Zimmer's files, pretty please?" K looked at me, his expression somber. "Are you not happy to see me, K?" I held a hand over my heart dramatically, looking hurt. "Your lack of happiness at my presence wounds me. I thought we were friends?" K simply shook his head and stood up, searching for the files.

"You know where the forms are," he said without looking at me, and I smirked, reaching over the counter to take the necessary application papers. But before I could fill out anything, K glanced over at Emma and I.

"I'm sorry, those records are no longer here."

I leaned my elbows on the counter, the familiar spark of curiosity lighting up the back of my mind. "And just who checked those records out, love?"

Ten minutes later, Emma and I stood in Regina Mills' office, Emma watching her suspiciously while I attempted to discreetly scope the place out for future reference. After all, you never know when you'll have to break into a mayoral office to steal anything from a corrupt municipality official, right? Regina was lamenting on information we already knew while I examined her locks from the corner of my eye. Not very complicated system, it might take me a minute or two to get through. That is, if I didn't just kick the door down - I'd gotten pretty apt at that recently.

"I contacted the state, and they put us in touch with two homes in Boston - a boys' home and a girls'." She walked over to a small table to pour herself a drink, and I quickly moved my gaze from the alarm on her wall.

"You're separating them?" I demanded, guilt returning to make my chest heavy. I knew Emma's promise would not be kept; I had known it was a dangerous thing to tell the twins.

"I don't like it either," Regina said, although I could see the malicious smile she had tried to hide.

"I doubt that," I muttered angrily.

"You have to have them in Boston tonight," Regina continued, ignoring my comment. Emma looked at her as if she'd gone insane. "This is part of being Sheriff, Miss Swan. These children need a home."

"No," Emma said, and I could see a few tears threatening to betray her. "I promised them they wouldn't be separated."

"Then perhaps you should stop making promises you can't keep."

* * *

"What're we going to do?"

I was sitting in the police station, staring at the clock on the wall, while Emma flipped through files at the desk. The clock was ticking incessantly, enough to make me want to rip it from the wall and smash it. Maybe I was getting a little restless, just sitting there doing nothing.

Okay, very restless.

"Find their father," Emma said simply, as she'd been saying to me for the past hour. It was nearly three thirty, and Regina had told her to have the twins in Boston by tonight. I was getting edgier by the minute, unable to stop moving: drumming my fingers on the desk, tapping my toes on the floor. At one point Emma had had to physically place my hands in my lap because I was on my sixth repetition of clapping the Cup Song without even realizing what I was doing.

"Lindsey? We'll find him," she reassured me and herself as Henry came rushing into the room, clutching his storybook.

"What's up, kid?" I glanced over his shoulder to see what page he was on: it had an illustration of two kids, a boy and a girl, running from a gingerbread house. I immediately knew where this was going and had to hide a laugh behind a small burst of coughing.

"Two kids, no parents, and they were stealing candy?" Henry looked as if we should've figured this out ages ago. "They're obviously Hansel and Gretel."

Emma and I exchanged a glance before the blonde asked, "It say anything in there about the dad?" I winked at her remark, and she tossed me a half-smile in response. But it was such a Graham-ish thing to do that for a moment I was thrown head-first into painful nostalgia: Graham and I, sitting in that office, arguing over some stupid thing between sips of coffee from Granny's. My feet up on the desk, Graham chiding me and accidentally pushing me off of my chair, me laughing from the floor. Playing wastepaper basketball - we were always tied for first. Me, trying to explain CS Lewis or Jules Verne to him, while he just argued that Star Wars was the only classic fiction he'd ever need to know. Peering over his shoulder at the files, and always leaving sticky-notes in them with red ink to explain his mistakes in profiles. The pumpkin spice lattes that made my start of school worth it, but that he hated.

"Lindsey?" Emma and Henry were standing in the other room, looking excited.

"Lindsey, I have a lead. Come on, we have to go!" Emma was already hurrying out of the room, but I felt trapped in my nostalgia. Henry studied me for a moment before saying, "Are you okay?"

I felt tears sting my eyes and I pinched my wrist, desperately trying to stop them. "Um, yeah. Yeah, Henry, I'm fine. Thanks." I gave him a smile that felt so fake it almost hurt and ran after Emma, my nails digging into my arm as I tried to stall any kind of crying.

* * *

We were standing in Mary Margaret's apartment, Emma talking to Ava and Nicholas. Mary Margaret was sitting next to me on the stairwell, and I could feel her watching me out of her peripheral vision.

"I know you're wondering if I've gone mute or lost my mind," I said quietly, then let out a short laugh devoid of any humor. "Clearly it's the second option."

"No, you haven't - you're upset. Is it about the twins?" She was staring right at me now, and I swallowed nervously under her gaze. Caroline studying my outfit was one thing, but I hated when people tried to study my emotions.

"Why would it be about the twins?" I asked, again in the same hushed voice. It was as if I was afraid to speak any louder than a mumble.

"Well, just because their situation might be a bit, um, reminiscent of yours. I mean, how close their circumstances are to how yours could've, well -"

"Well, what?" I said, my voice still frustratingly quiet. "You think I'm too close to the case or something, like on those stupid cop shows? That their 'situation is reminiscent of mine', and that it scares the crap out of me because every time I look at that little girl over there I see me? That it doesn't make me wonder if she'll turn out as messed up as I did?" I was nearly gasping for air after this outburst, my breaths coming faster and shallower every second.

"No," Mary Margaret said quickly, looking a bit panicked. "No, Lindsey, I just meant -"

"That I'm upset because they might not get what I managed? That they don't have a Caroline Welles to swoop in and save the day, so they won't be nearly as lucky as I was? Because believe me, Mary Margaret, I've thought about all of this, all freaking day. And it's all true." I choked out the last word, feeling a sob rise in my throat. I pinched my wrist again, as hard as I could, but to no effect. I pressed my lips together: I would not cry. Not even in front of these people, who cared about me. No.

"I have to go to the washroom," I said shakily, stumbling to my feet. Mary Margaret nodded, pointing me in the right direction. Hurrying up the stairs, my steps uneven and barely controllable, I collapsed against the door the moment I entered the bathroom. Sliding down it and onto the cold tile floor, I let out a silent sob.

It was all too much at the moment: Graham's death, the unwanted trip down memory lane in the station, and now Mary Margaret's questions and my stupid outburst. I'd been rude, I knew that. I shouldn't have snapped at her, and felt a stab of guilt. But I couldn't go out to apologize - not yet. Leaning against the door, I felt tears roll slowly down my face. My vision blurred for a moment as I cried, and soon after the actual sobs arrived. I pressed a small towel against my face, muffling them. I would not let anyone hear me cry - they had enough to worry about as it was.

After all of that, after the tears and the crying and the sadness that wracked my body, making my hands shake and my chest ache, I sat there, thinking.

What I'd said to Mary Margaret had been absolute truth: I'd been lucky. I was an orphan, but I'd never known my parents. I'd never had to lose them - not the way Ava and Nicholas had. I had Caroline, my mother's sister, who had taken me in when I was too young to remember a time without her. I'd always had Caroline, and probably always would. She was a mother to me in ways that some people still didn't understand. At first, people doubted her ability. She was young - barely twenty years old - when my parents vanished. But she was an old soul, Caroline, and she always told me that she knew she couldn't leave me to someone else. She sometimes said that I'd been like a gift to her from her sister: left on the doorstep of the brownstone that became my home. Our home.

I leaned my head back against the door, smiling faintly. Our awkward, tiny family, in our old, rundown home. That was my life, and God knows I would never trade it for anything.

But the twins might not be so lucky. I frowned, thinking about their father: if Emma really did find him . . . I shook my head, banishing the thought. That was a pipedream.

Standing carefully, I stared into the bathroom mirror: my face was shining with tear tracks, and my eyes were bloodshot, the blue in my eyes standing out vividly against the pink. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and wet the towel with freezing cold water, pressing it to my eyes. Soon, they were almost normal again. With a deep, shaky breath, I left the washroom and returned to the kitchen where Mary Margaret, Henry and the twins sat, looking anxious.

"Lindsey." The teacher breathed a sigh of relief as I came down the stairs, looking much calmer. I even managed to give her a small smile, walking over to the kitchen counter.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Ava looked at me and said hesitantly, "Sheriff Swan went to look for our father. She might know of a way to find him."

"Well, that's good news, right?" I said, a bit confused. Why did everyone in the room look as if they were on death row, if the Zimmers' father was about to be miraculously discovered in Storybrooke?

"She might not find him," Ava said, sounding one hyperventilation away from a panic attack. "Besides, Mayor Mills said we have to be in Boston by tonight, and then we'll be separated, and -"

I just shook my head at the girl. "No - believe me, Emma will not let you two be separated. There's no chance of that. And as for Regina . . . well, she can screw herself."

"Lindsey - language!" Mary Margaret chided, looking scandalized. I hid a laugh behind a cough and continued.

"Like I said, Regina doesn't control the universe, no matter how much she believes she does. And besides, if it ticks Madam Mayor off, you can be sure Emma's going to do it." I winked at the twins, and Ava looked a bit more calm. Then I looked at Mary Margaret and said softly, "I'm sorry." She smiled and nodded in response.

Emma hurried into the apartment then, pulling Mary Margaret outside to 'talk' - she looked even more anxious than Ava. I followed them curiously, motioning for the twins and Henry to stay inside.

Outside the building, Emma explained the current situation, and I resisted the urge to go find Michael Tillman and beat him to a pulp. Then I smiled to myself: if I was back to contemplating violence immediately, then I was back to being me. "What do you mean, he doesn't want them?" I demanded furiously. I felt as though I needed to argue on the twins' behalf. "How can he see that he's got kids, and just say 'whoops, not my problem'?"

"Lindsey," Mary Margaret said, attempting to calm me down. I shook my head, muttering, "What an ass."

Emma shrugged. "That's what happened. I can't tell them the truth, though - I promised them that they wouldn't be separated, and they definitely will be now."

"Emma, the truth can be painful, but it can also be cathartic," Mary Margaret said sagely. I bit my lip, hating to admit how true her words were. "You told Henry his father's dead, and he's taking it incredibly well."

Wait, what? I glanced over at Emma, who shook her head, silently pleading 'don't ask'. So I didn't - after all, Henry's parents were his business.

"His father's not dead," Emma said shortly. "He was anything but a hero, and trust me when I say he doesn't need to know the whole story. We could hide the kids, though - just until we find a family to take them in."

"Yes, because hiding the twelve-year-olds is a good plan!"

"It's not that bad. I know a couple spots." Both women looked at me, baffled, and I shrugged. "I had a bit of a runaway kick a few years ago - that was before the breaking-and-entering one." They continued staring at me, and I suddenly felt a bit self-conscious. "Or not, that could work, too."

"Sheriff," said a cold voice from behind the three of us. I glanced up, annoyed, to see Regina Mills striding towards us.

"Why aren't you on the interstate?"

I sighed in exasperation. "And why weren't you on the bloody Titanic? That would've made life easier for the rest of us."

"Hold your tongue, Miss Welles," she snapped, glaring at me.

I rolled my eyes. "No problem, Your Highness."

"Those kids need to be in Boston tonight, Miss Swan." Regina redirected her furious gaze towards Emma.

It took Regina several insults and threats, and two more hours to convince Emma to take the Zimmers to Boston. At that, I was eternally in awe of. Emma Swan, defender of the weak, taker of no shit. She would not abandon the twins to Mayor Mills' merciless barrage of attacks. When finally she gave in, Ava and Nicholas were nearly in tears. I walked with them to the police car, as did Henry, who seemed especially defiant of his adoptive mother that night. He wouldn't look at her for a good ten minutes after she began her campaign to have the twins taken away. Now he simply ignored her.

We waved at them from outside the police car, where they sat in the backseat. I couldn't stop a tear before it fell, watching the two kids dragged away from their happy ending. I gave Regina a looked more venomous than a cobra, and walked over to Mary Margaret, who was hugging her jacket tighter around herself. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, just like Caroline always did, and I wrapped mine around her side as we walked back to her apartment.

* * *

"She did it!" Henry said excitedly as he stood next to me in Granny's that night. I glanced down at the kid, astonished that he was so happy, considering his newfound friends had just been taken away to Boston forever.

"What?"

"Emma! She got Ava and Nicholas' dad to come - he kept them! They're staying in Storybrooke." And suddenly I was smiling too, grinning hugely into my cup of tea as Henry picked up a dessert box full of pumpkin pie from Ruby.

"Are you going to see Emma?" I asked, and he nodded. "Mind if I come? I just want to congratulate her." And maybe see someone who understands just why I was so upset about this case. Why I needed it to work out for the Zimmers.

"Sure!" Henry said. And that is how I wound up chasing after a hyperactive ten-year-old to see Emma Swan.

She was sitting in the police car, which she had parked on the side of the road. Henry scurried up to the window and tapped on the glass. She opened the door and he said, "I brought you some pumpkin pie! It was pumpkin, right?"

Emma smiled, although it seemed a little forced, and said, "Yeah. Uh, listen, kid -" She climbed out of the car, walking around the side to see Henry.

"About your dad," she began.

"Yeah?" He was smiling at just the mention of his dad, and Emma looked as if she were arguing with herself over something.

"I'm glad I told you," she whispered, and Henry wrapped his arms around her middle in a hug. She hugged him back and we exchanged a brief glance, but that was all I needed to confirm my suspicion: that this was what Mary Margaret had been referring to earlier.

"What you did, with Ava and Nicholas," Henry said. "You really are changing things."

"For the better," I added. "That's why I came: congrats on beating the Evil Queen again!" Both Emma and Henry looked at each other, than at me, and laughed. I tilted my head curiously. "What's so funny? Seriously, I don't - I don't get it."

They were still laughing when a motorcycle came roaring down the street, its driver someone I couldn't quite make out with the streetlamps. It came to a stop across the road from us and the driver climbed off it, taking off his helmet and walking over.

"Is this Storybrooke?"

I nodded, and the stranger continued, running a gloved hand through his auburn hair. "Any place I can get a room around here?"

Henry gaped at him, bewildered. "You're - you're staying?"

"That's the plan," he agreed, smiling. Even his smile looked as if he were hiding a secret.

"Granny's bed and breakfast is just up the road," Emma said, gesturing in the direction. I gave the stranger a brief once-over and smirked to myself: Ruby was going to have fun when he walked into the diner tonight.

As he walked away, Emma called, "I didn't catch your name!"

"That's 'cause I didn't throw it!" The man got back on his bike and headed off to the bed and breakfast while Emma, Henry and I stood there for a moment, watching.

"I thought you said strangers didn't come to Storybrooke," Emma chided Henry, who was still a bit in shock.

"That's because they don't," I said, staring after the mysterious stranger.


End file.
